Thirty-Fourth Street Station (#Poster #GraphicArt #SaturdayTakes)

Tags

Graphic Arts, New York City, Phil Gennuso Arts, POSTERS, Underground Railroads

Phil Gennuso Arts

A burst of energy, a display of power, a sense of mayhem, a feeling of movement.
Welcome to New York City, The Underground.
Where it all comes together, or it all falls apart.
Trains come from every which way, and they come
and go all day long. Newcomers always get lost,
then get found again.
No matter what you might think, the city
could never function as it expects, without this hotspot of
craziness.

Public Domain Photo

I know right now, New York City, is having many problems. Crime, housing, unemployment, a post-covid sense of depression. Things don’t look very good. But the City has been in dire striaghts before. A number of times. And it always has come back. And it will come back again.

It may take time, but it will happen.

Bronx Flat – Moon, Radiator, Shade

Tags

Bronx NY, Childhood, Digital Art, Old Radiators, Phil Gennuso, POETRY, Prose Poems

by phil gennuso

   Those early days, Olinville Avenue, junk man, street car veggies pouring out of small trucks, little kids up and down the streets, girls with pigtails, boys, scraped knees. At night the steam poured out across the flat, across the house, the street, the sky and carried me far away to the sunflower moon, shining down with mystery and benevolence and wisdom and promise.

Mardi Gras Mask

Tags

Digital Art, Digital Collage, Mardi Gras, Masks, Phil Gennuso, Prose Poem

by phil gennuso, click for full size

   Shining masks, a different, difficult history, today is song, tomorrow is sorrow. Wanderer, reckless, celebrant, family, you peer behind your sculpted mask with a smile, a toast, a tear.

Dream #100

Tags

Digital Art, Digital Photography, Dreams, Gauguin, Phil Gennuso, POETRY, Prose Poem

by phil gennuso, click for full size

   So I am dreaming, I am in a Gauguin painting, talking to this beautiful girl, probably around 21, maybe 30 or so, no older. She is not fragile, nor is she athletic, just natural, her face, her skin, her expression, her wonder; standing gently, against this dark, starless sky, she still shines, as if from some inner light.

Entropy, Mathematics, and Poetry #Prose Poem

Tags

Entropy, Prose Poem

Entropy:
If you put a cup of hot coffee on your table in the morning, and let it sit there, it will get cooler, over time.

If you put a cup of cold coffee on your table in the morning, and let it sit there, it will not get warmer, over time.

Such is what bounds our world, the ebb and flow of energy, for all things, living and non-living, dead or alive.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Can you imagine a universe where one or the other, or both are reversed?

Is there such a mathematics?

Is there such a poetry?

And if so, who would open that door first, the poet or the mathematician?