Engraving a rose.

I paused, grief pitched.

It was leaking, ground up.

It was decaying, sky down.

Its canvas was crumpled.

Its fly sheet was fraying.

 Its frame was haggard.

All shrieked of decomposition.

I salvaged a bag of pegs.

The A's, I kept, as keep-sakes

I took four photos.

Its was an unwilling engraving.

It, however, had already become something else.

engraving.

a rose.

Les Maux des Mots: Pinterest.

Beauty in deed.

Captured in a net.

Beauty in a jar.

Beauty pinned.

Beauty defined.

Beauty giffed.

Simulacre of beauty.

Morbid cabinet.




Made for display: flight tagged, sized, analysed.


Diversity decoration.

Curious, avid, acquisition, curate, possess, knowing.

Knowing naturalists, we are (not).

Naturaliser (Fr)

Il s’est fait naturaliser français.

Importer d’une autre langue un mot ou une expression

Empailler un animal mort ou conserver une plante, de façon que cet animal ou cette plante gardent leur aspect naturel.

L’Afrique renferme plusieurs espèces d’animaux qu’on ne pourrait naturaliser en Europe.

Is it safe?

@telliowkuwp pic.twitter.com/Z37nVunrQ0

— Simon Ensor (@sensor63) April 30, 2016

Yes it's very safe (not).

"To love is to give what one doesn't have." J. Lacan.

We have love, we have nothing, IT is all.

We may not possess it, we may not keep it, we may not avoid its pain.

We are pierced in our hearts, mortally wounded, disabled, made unwhole.

We grasp for a light.

We become transfixed in our reflections...caught in an illusion of illumination.

Electrified, in the artificial light, we remain in the dark.

We remain pinned here, quaking, flapping, trembling.

"What is it that you want?

Say something!

Say something! Tell me what you want!"

What a thrill!

We are on the edge of our seats...in safety (not).

Faith it's a desperate leap...

pic.twitter.com/Bs9rxMTS7M

— Simon Ensor (@sensor63) May 1, 2016

Any words? 

Make them count...(selon).

"Mon Roland, mon Roland." 

Ecrire le deuil. Roland Barthes.

@Nsousanis 'Tis an exquisite corpse with no deadline. pic.twitter.com/7gRB3AF7li

— Simon Ensor (@sensor63) April 30, 2016

'Tis an exquisite corpse by deed.

Ghostwriting & Marginalia.

..

Ghostwriting & Marginalia.

Ghostwriter.

I haunt these words. 

I hear their steps.

They pause...

But I remain static.

I haunt these words.

I am type-cast.

This cursor beating heart.

I hear them coming.

I feel them standing over me.

Ghostwriting.

I am this corpse.

I fear they think me dead, yet

I haunt these words.

Locked in, comatic,

Powerless to act, yet

I haunt these words.

They sharpen scalpels.

They take its organs.

They take its eyes.

They see nothing.

I am this ghostwriter.

Post scriptum

Post mortem.

Alive and Whole.

I haunt these words.

Marginalia.

"Sweet is the lore which Nature brings;

Our meddling intellect

Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things:—

We murder to dissect."

William Wordsworth.