Taniya s wedding, Alki Masonic Temple, Seattle, November 23rd 2009.
Saturday, November 21st, 2009





copyright Vanessa Briggs 2009.






copyright Vanessa Briggs 2009.
Directed by Nikki Lee Taylor
Director of Photography and Still Photography
Vanessa Briggs













Copyright Vanessa Briggs 2009.

at home.
She lies on the grave of her love,
nothing left but a few ashes,
something stares,
through the pine trees,
comme des sardines,
shinning waters,
ecailles d’argent a la surface
of your eyes.
How long waiting,
face the sea,
facing mirrors,
the black holes;
hilled lands,
in caves of water.
Still are the leaves,
on stand by.
More grounds shake
and trembling clouds dance around us,
fetch buckets and spades,
castles of you,
fill the Skies.
Burning feet, tiptoe, ice, pealing skin, off the ground.
I slide, bound by skin that sticks,
glue me down, wrap me,
dans la vallee de l’être,
disturbed again, belt me down,
hear the loud roars and trouble,
that you cause all again,
strips of pain, panting verbs, knifed in vain,
and the voices, cut short, in the void,
bladed stars strip your thought,
trigger lungs, string up beams,
up the ladders, on cranes, over heads.
Over dreams, illusions are swallowed by the depth of the clouds,
and no air, and no breath, and no wind, and no sound,
are leading the sheep, though the gold water streams,
and shimmering rivers,
pour to Dreamland and watch,
see you jumping in strain,
shaking body, in vain,
now you can’t hold me down,
hold me down.
Bring it on, nerves alert,
sing a song, phones that ring,
legs that cross, spines that stretch,
spines that swing, spines that sing.
Sharp.
On a furious date, responding to color,
removed, when, burning coals fill the hands,
burning fingers that jump,
and from tips to the tips
of the toe to the finger,
all the bones that may dance,
miracle in the light,
sur la pointe des pieds,
through white curtains of rain.
Parfois, le café fait à Seattle, lorsque l’on s’approche de trop près des machines, ca sent la merde de chien.
Sometimes, when you get too close to the machines, Seattle coffee smells like dog shit.

60 x 72 inches, acrylic on canvas,
painted with Pallas Aleta, 3 and half years old.