Peek of Exchange While trees cite sky and sky golds, surrender, solar abandon, to beatitude! Behold below, the escaped blue arboretum! Departing Dimensions Toward vertex, a vapour marble rides its chimera of fibrous wind and heroic solitude. Clearing of the Lucid Balloon Whether nighttime rises or falls, between its borders echo a flotilla of twilight.
Category Archives: Bleeding the Vine’s Breast
Creative acts
Montgolfières
1 June 2009
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By Joshua Chalifour & Heather McLaughlin
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Posted in Dialogues
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Tagged hot air balloon, montgolfière
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Comments (0)
The Pear Bell
The creek’s water stopped flowing arcing to reach outside its bed and up against the pear tree,
Montreal Roof at 7, Réveillé
Redless black morning chimney mount; a two-dimensional relief stamped on white-blue sky. With ventilated hat, in brick composure the ragged outline of domestic industry stands upright, dormant while altocumulus float beyond, sunrise igniting their pink.
15 February 2009
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By Joshua Chalifour
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Posted in Moments, Poem
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Tagged chimney, montreal, sunrise
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Comments (0)
Politician’s Lament
I got something the other day. After a glass of x knows what and four men had to haul the logs out of the corner, we all might say we got something— But really, it was I, I got it. It started when the king fell over. “No way to play chess” I said, referring …
6 October 2008
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By Joshua Chalifour
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Posted in Poem
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Tagged authenticity, character study, politician
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Comments (0)
Interpersonal Telescopic
Starting off in the distance, where the gelatinous ocean rose in spots and dipped in others, waves rolled. Each following another as it finally dispersed itself into the fine sandy shore. One wave followed another but each grew again in the same place. It was impossible to follow one and not feel it also somehow …
1 March 2008
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By Joshua Chalifour
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Posted in Prose
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Tagged beach, love, ocean, personalities, telescoping characters
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Comments (0)
Midnight Lost its Magic, #1
Midnight lost its magic. The parties decease without happiness just Boredom. A skinny, unwashed boy yells at the wrong windows. He’d serenade her if he could find her. Doesn’t matter that he can’t since any other window’ll do
20 February 2008
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By Joshua Chalifour
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Posted in Poem
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Tagged love, magic, midnight, serenade
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Comments (0)
Type Write
Ever thought about a typewriter? The kind of thinking where you separate it all out, making it type writer. Then go on with type, just on its own. Type, type is what you see right here, in front of you. It’s a type of type too. Times, probably. Times type. What type of thinking is …
11 November 2007
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By Joshua Chalifour & Heather McLaughlin
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Posted in Dialogues
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Tagged type, typewriter, typing
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Comments (0)
Fourteen Things to Do with a Drunken Slipper
1) Knock (together) on the side of a fishtank–they won’t mind, even at 2 AM 2) Puddles, immersive treatments to all the world’s puddles 3) Treat it to a bedtime story 4) Show the crook of your shoulder to a good friend and the slipper; then they’ll have something in common 5) Lie down outside …
14 October 2007
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By Joshua Chalifour
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Posted in Bleeding the Vine's Breast
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Tagged drunk, list
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Comments (0)
Donned in Details
He went around the side of the house and climbed over a broken fence. Climbing it was easy, the fence gave way, giving him way, and soon he’d stepped through enough waist-deep shrubs and weeds to gather their briars, hooks, and brown hitch-hiking bits from his pants for a bouquet of prickly plumes, which he …
19 August 2007
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By Joshua Chalifour
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Posted in Prose
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Tagged cape breton, nova scotia, photography
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Comments (0)
Parks before Spring Notebooks
Four sets of photos, sketches, and text accomplished in four different Montreal parks (fifteen minutes each). First day of Spring.
15 April 2007
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By Joshua Chalifour & Heather McLaughlin
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Posted in Dialogues
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Tagged notebook, photography, sketch
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Comments (2)
Meditation, Passage Climbing a Good Hour
On the night before, I slept very little to ensure I’d sleep the next night. That next night held a flight–an entire night mixed up with invisible hands batting our poor vessel about the sky. Piano sound carries itself winking uponaround three flights of interwoven logs: Trees petrified in preservation of paint and stoic service. It …
Cheering Absurd Funnel of Resonance
A cold polished stone lolls on my tongue. I curl the edges, rolling the stone to the center cradling it in a sway of undulating taste buds. My tongue spoons this sip of scotch, rolling it like a flaming dollop of viscous honey, down my throat– yellow and round an invisible note of buoyant Bosch.
Nightmare of the Somniferumfly
In mad flits, sobered strain above calm Lepidoptera flew to avoid his enbalm. He’d escape one true perish Some deer devils’ ripe anguish, But through circuits they’d track with aplomb.
12 August 2006
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By Joshua Chalifour & Heather McLaughlin
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Posted in Dialogues
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Tagged collage, limerick
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Comments (0)
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