Blue Smoke...is it a vision of glowing ashes
rising like the Phoenix from the dust of
long-forgotten TV dramas? It is the second-hand
coffin nail from the elbow next to yours in that
darkened room where someone croons to no
one...
Out of all this comes the glaringly brilliant
vision of the perfect world, the Xanadu of our
Dreams, dancing plum-like before our eyes.
Do we turn and flee the strange bright light, or
drift into it, as we know we must?
Columns of classic beauty like between ourselves
and our goal, if such a thing is possible.
All this just to get out of Gunsmoke,
Gilligan and I Dream of
Jeannie re-runs, and mere escape would be
so easy , but escape is not the plan...
Smoke that is blue is always smoke, but smoke is
not, as you know by now, always blue.
This is not usually the kind of information one
seeks in the space of Blue Smoke, but it does not
matter much what one expected, because the space
of Smoke of Blue is not malleable in the ordinary
way, and beyond the ordinary there is only
stillness and silence.
We have all been in that place...Where blue smoke
and red smoke and white smoke and yellow smoke and
grey smoke and orange smoke and violet smoke blend
together to make something that cannot quite meet
the eye.
So that is what Blue Smoke is all about, and it is
just fortunate that it is all so simple that even
a child of four could understand it.
Some smoke comes from things and some just is.
This is the kind that just is.
Click Here to Buy