Inside the Dark

Inside the Dark

©2004 Figure: threadwork on layered fabrics,
20" x 55" (based on a photo by Clare Bonser)

©2004, Dream Journal: threadwork and laser toner
on dyed and discharged silk and cotton, 20" x 15"

©2006, Book support: pine and cedar,
dimensions variable (created by David Camp)

The dark is in me
and it is only in me.
Each night I sleep with my own demons.
I pray to my own internal gods.

I will try to lose my memory,
to cast off the day with a shrug of disrespect
like a heavy coat on the blessed start of spring,
to enter the shadow side drained of myself.

I will move ahead fearlessly,
shake hands with the emerging devil
and then drop off, trusting. This I will do.

Inside, the dark is everything.

Required Reading (front)

Required Reading (back)

Required Reading (back)

© 2005, altered book: printed, dyed and rusted silk
and cotton; steel and found objects, 18-1/2"h x 14"w x 8-1/2"d

Required Reading (front)

© 2005, altered book: printed, dyed and rusted silk
and cotton; steel and found objects,
18-1/2"h x 14"w x 8-1/2"d

How to repackage the truth:
bind slices of your world
in your rusted collection of swords.
Wrap your anxious, willful ways between layers
until the eyes have turned to dust
and the words become dull, uneven
shapes you might press with your fingers
if you could step outside the pain.

We all know the truth exists below the surface.
The hidden words stack endlessly
until they are unmanageable
careening from the edges
dancing below the points.
The story is still yours
but you are absolved of the shame of privacy.

There are things we don’t want to know,
words to bury about madness
and the breaking of a soul on something sharp,
about the quality of light and halos.
There are things we must share
so air will flow again around us.
Truth is a book with wings.