Footage shot at the art studio of artist and actor Raymond J. Barry, who is the subject of this work. .mp4 | 2023 __________________________ Accompanying poem from my collection of works TIMEZOO: One time I flew too close to the sun. Some people believe the sun is a portal to other dimensions and you have to fly right through it. I use sunscreen. I don’t mind getting burned, but it itches. I usually get a good tan. The sun is there even when there are clouds. But like clouds, the sun will one day be no longer. And like the seekers thirst for knowing and becoming, it is impermanent. The dimensions, all collapse upon themselves. The knowing and becoming leads to more knowing and becoming till there is nothing to know and nothing to become, or at least what is to know and what is to become is beyond knowing and becoming. Ya dig? So All the suns breathe out their fire till all desire to become one that is all known and all becometh is obliterated. Light works in mysterious ways. Love even more so. And what’s left to be said, or felt, or experienced well... It’s Not dark, not cold, not light, not warm, hey- not not any of those aspects either. Have at it. Not a here or there, not an I or an Other, but sure for a point of reference you gotta be somewhere. I get it. Though what’s being referred to .... oh man ... that’s a hoot. Owls. Love em. Their Intellect Imagination Haunts The Time Zoo. Peering Moon Eyes With Prophecy To The Prompt. Some may say it’s the start, some the end, maybe others go for an unknown between. Not those either. Unless you put 'em in a blender, Quantum Prana Paradox Processor, food that lasts a lifetime. No shelf life. No shelf. I mean self. Small S, big s, no S. Don’t stress. Essence. Nice fragrance. Whistle While You Work. Compare your lists, check off the boxes, read the articles, read the books, see the signs, the synchronicities, The simplicities, the strange familiar. Ha. Funny how this works when you try and break it all down. Beauty in that. Consider all the angles, all the possibilities, all the mechanics and variations of an unknowable knowing. Get to the root. Gotta get to the root. Shut the Fuck up. The root. The source. Hey man, You’ll be diggin for a long time, it will take you right on way down headlong through the sky feet first in all directions Christ hands outstretched deep underneath the cosmic sea in the belly of a whale, and it will burp you on out, shovel in hand, dirt in your face, right through the fucking sun. Another dimension. Little alteration to your timeline. You remember you tried this before? By all means go ahead if you want. Same thing expecting different results. It’s not to say don’t endeavor baby, don’t dream, and don’t play - do that. You’re just not gonna ever contain it in the way you want. It’s not gonna fit in a neat little package for you to digest. There will be gifts and lots of em. Here and now. The greatest Present. Perhaps the only one. Everything else is just icing on the cake and a sour face. If I were to write this as a book, there would be no letters, no pictures, not a single page to bind together - and if I tried to hand it to you, it would be far too heavy. For now the sun feels good. Shining down on me, in whatever solar system, whatever dimension, or planet, or form or experience I am in. I’m ok with that. I think that’s wonderful. Louis Armstrong wrote a song about it.
