Fish Bowl — A Poem of Love and Dirt:
A bowl of fish fills in the void between half-full and half-empty; written with Seussian glee into realms only gestured at in previous writings, such as: "And then something went SQUISH! How that ‘squish’ made us flip! We looked! Then we saw it; we looked and we saw it step in with us! The upright walker! It stepped into the bowl with us, only to sink."
The Garden Demon: in which we follow the life of an unfinished creature that rides on the wind seeking the heavens, but gets lost in its own desires and trapped within itself, as it tries to become free by ignoring the facts of the world around it.
"Half a man stood gazing up, the other half a god, but wholly unfinished. The invention of time in a world full of none caused the dilemma, begging attention during a world resting. There are six sides to the stones we built from, thought the half-formed giant, as he dwelled inside a world he drank from on occasion. The worms were created through molecular-bonding – The stones were sliced into hexagonal shapes, but so large that the edges remained unseen – Gems spilled down below, like refuse from forming a lost cause, shaped like star rats imitating sublime elements. The gems left behind were gathered, once upon a time, to implant into his clone-donors breast, the giant knew, but - they’d since fallen from rotten, down to below..."
The Jabbok, chalk on paper © 7-2016, DTNoll
Ravikum and the Multiverse: in which Mishka Fet, with an eye to the sky, sees a lone creature living on a floating fish scale swerving about in midair, dry, and hovering. The creature is Ravikum, who believes that the land below him is really a giant fish swimming on the surface of a giant sea—so, our story is partially about how Mishka Fet is forever captured by the image of Ravikum, and our story is also about the dreams of Ravikum. The rest is still unknown.
The Last Rotator: in which Nomed Asaweh, a soul mostly lost, finds purpose in darkness, seeking to outdo ancestral claims upon his person; but, alas, Nomed falls into a pit of ego and betrayal, just trying to become whole, all because he joined the always and unbending pull of humankind.
"Even when Nomed was a child he hated the sound of his bare feet clicking across the stone floors of the palace he grew up in, and Nomed had been raised with the entire world sprawled out at his feet, regardless of how hideous they felt. Below the knees Nomed's legs warped into animal form. This created a sublime reluctance for Nomed to take each and every step. He cringed before each click on the stone floor, but then relished the sound echoing down from the palace to the peasants below. Nomed's parents were mostly busy with matters of State, so had hired physicians and men of science to attempt to reduce Nomed’s discomfort. Only one court physician remained from those who had been summoned, with his eyes still intact and his head still barely there; he had thought quickly, knowing his fate if he should fail in his science, and he provided boots as black as the night and tall enough to quiet Nomed’s concerns from echoing out of the castle and over the tops of the townships far down below."
Stories of the Lost Ark —
A new series of stories formed as I study the next chapter of our Khumash:
The Commute, chalk on paper © 7-2016, DTNoll
The Last Soldier: in which, having lost his love, his anchor in the world, a man is swept away by a floating island only to discover that he had had a connection to his Creator all along. The destruction he built, he eventually realized, was all in the plan from the beginning, and in the end he had only taken the long road around.
"I miss my watch. It had smart functions that allowed me to feel like I was in control of my world … and not just a passenger riding this absurd island around a flooded Earth. I miss telling the time. The island shakes and trembles under my wobbling knees every time I utter the fact of its existence ... as if it were alive and offended by my mention. My mission was plain, to conquer my fears of failing and falling into the trap of the enemy. But … when I saw 'the enemy, I knew that the thing was just like me..."
Isolation, chalk on paper © 4-2020, DTNoll
Into the Woods: in which I move from LA, California to Boulder, Colorado, swimming through life as I fall end-over-end attempting to make sense of it all. The journey includes a race-riot, an earthquake, an overland adventure trailing my thus-far-lived life in tow, and then hiking into the wilderness with my progeny in tow. It includes making art alone in the dark, and ultimately expelling inner demons formed by my mother’s life-long battle with dissociative identity disorder, and finally ends with finding home in the bones that I knew all along.
I started writing when my kids were still young, wanting to read to them or their children writings from my own hand. I’m self-taught, and to improve I use my education and experience in technical and marketing writing, working as a high school English teacher, and with postings made to: The Brave New Land