#patchkelly

It was better than any movie  that I have ever seen, all the honest emotion.  All the minute details emotionally registered, now surfaced.  The difference in perspective, and the way  that I was the one to remember the words.  It was easy for these faded pictures to slip my mind. I had lost my own image somewhere.  The colors and the textures had all faded into gray-like smoke. In surfacing effortlessly to new ground once familiar  is how I found true miracles.  The vivid colors that have returned to my flesh.  I can see me again, in all the radiance that leaves  the pigmentation of my presence. Becoming a mirror of the monster of the nightmare mothers  that imagination had created. In the wholeness  that I once thought that I had found, I lost  my true perspective in pounds.  The brightness of my reality in inks has illustrated  my apodictic world. The banderole  of who I once was, who I am, and where I came from.  My animation is a diagram; a correspondence  to irrecoverable stars that still shine brilliantly,  more acutely than before.  I’ve pilled the hues from the inside out, extending them  to those that surround me. Screening them blanketed  I see the images now.  Graphically intense and saturated. I am more  than a component of the perplexities. More  than the composite. When strangers pass by,  they recognize me immediately.  And without all of my parts I am hale and hearty. I can be healthy again.  Without all of my parts, I am whole.

  — Patch Kelly