Ray Benda

it’s this material. this… mud. …quicksand really. a vortex siren of ravishing expressive latitude sung in tongues syncing in reflective empathy echoing visceral nuance to ghost depths. .sublime when you’re in tune…
twist ya snugly into rubber cellars when ya ain’t that harmonic though. …!Kicked it a thousand times. Desecrated its adobe observatory. Renounced its altar alchemy. Burned the bridge contraptions, divining devices and mangled wrenches symbiotic with its inconceivable language. …slept! rolling snakes of colorful clay, scribbling pythons with crayons, aquarelling dappled apples in the komorebi chapel …sometimes years. !…only to awaken again, wildly spiraling into its quiet horizon tearing away the prism vision to feed her radiant pitch.