Black jack onions

Underneath the canvas of toxic cadmium a box of black jack onions laid. Revealing only half of themselves. Eyebrows toyed with the idea of sync in reaction to the external scenario. Hopefully, catch any loose dust floating eye bound at such a pivotal moment. An eyebrow’s first job was always functional. What was the moment, well, the sheer fact that black jack onions actually exist. Of course black jack onions knew little about the abstracted lawn. Simply because, the black jack onion box rest in the garage & the freshly sliced abstracted lawn did not. Lawn in garage seems modern art try hard. Grass maybe. Maybe a ‘mock’ grass car to suggest concerns towards capitalism & our ever dwindling patchwork of planet greenery. Broom-broom, beep-beep. Lawn cars showing the world we care about golf; the environment. Eighteen plus holes giving birth to Emex australis.

abstracted lawn 2abstracted lawn 3abstracted laen 4

abstracted laen 5The wind sock flapped in all its might. Abdomen stabbing the earth adjacent a right angle of dirt. Wind socks always wondered what made grass-lawn, only at twilight. They only ever wondered about such humanized approaches to nature at this exact time each week. Simply because they never allocated another time to such thought activities. Wind socks don’t wear watches; they rely solely on the wind. Nor are they extremely adventurous. More of a statuesque compass- for drifters- labelled gorgeously.

‘aren’t you going to take a photo?’
‘yeah, eventually’

Co-existing phenomena on such a large scale, proved way to overwhelming to the senses. It numbed her sloth. Crop circles turned diagonal. A bird’s eye view would be most ideal. But first, taking it- all- in was of priority. Digesting the fact that black jack onions existed, followed closely by the lawn spectacles. Sharing, a fair third. Doing justice to such wonderful juxtapositions within reality pressed eagerly on her temples. Should the inclusion of the giant sculptural bok choy- the only thing she wanted for Christmas- make the story cut? Such concerns instantly diluted when a kind gentleman had surprisingly made her excrement feel somewhat liquid fertile. In mind’s eye; the acutest angle of lawn was chosen and with an intentional nod, she imprinted a concentrate of deeply felt thank yous. In a stamp-less state, they dug themselves to China & beyond to kingdom unite!

Once eyes turned shapes home label; lawn felt less abstracted. The box of black jack onions still needed a backstory. And the now dried, toxic-less canvas was ready for conté. Pearl conté.

abstracted lawn

The wind sock is a fictional character within this story. When passing the airport as a delightful car passenger on the way to my nephews birthday, I became entranced by this object. Partly structural, partly free. Without further adieu, I interrupted some nonsense discussion about Pete’s sore ankle, and urgently broke the news of my infatuation. What’s that wind-sock thing called? Two out of three people answered. A wind-sock. Dazzling in my momentary intelligence, a sigh smile emerged. The rest of the car ride was spent searching wind-socks on google. I even found a fish one which I will eventually attach to a pedestal fan. Who wouldn’t want pre-digested air in summer. 

18 responses to Black jack onions

  1. Great stuff Jessie; I enjoyed the ride. I imagine it takes some doing and requires a rare skill to write direct from the mind – so to speak – bypassing the formalities of structure and (what passes for) reason. It feels like reading a new language, and yet one that is accessible in an engagingly unfamiliar way. H ❤

    • Jessie Martinovic – Author

      thanks Hariod , glad to have provided a pleasurable ride. I really enjoy connecting things together, but the things I notice seem to be slightly different to most. All the more to share discoveries !

    • Jessie Martinovic – Author

      Actually, I don’t know if I even know if connecting is the right word. I am stumped with a reply tonight, sorry Hariod I shall re-evaluate in the morning haha

      • Jessie Martinovic – Author

        How good is sleep, my goodness gracious, it’s actually my favourite thing besides being awake.

        I found it interesting how you suggested a ‘new language’, I guess we all have our own peculiar fragment of the whole, but yes a lack of formal education in literature & a low interest in books (wordy ones), definitely must add to the curliness of my style.

        I enjoy highlighting the fluidity between all objects, space, and thought processes. A certain connectivity, a oneness, a wholeness- I guess.

        Support in any form; be thy dots, dwarfs, bats or triangle trees- mostly love & acceptance- is all fine with me.

      • You are a born artist Jessie, so never needed the formal education you speak of. All the artist needs is their own language – do you (dis)agree?

      • Jessie Martinovic – Author

        Forth response try. Thank you for your kind words, they are as uplifting as ever. It’s a nice feeling realising your purpose after such a search. Yes, but then if we are all little worlds, we must all be artists?

      • Jessie Martinovic – Author

        “Once you kill a cow, you gotta make a burger.” – Lady Gaga

  2. To say ‘splendid’ would be inadequate…to say ‘delicious musings’ gets a little closer…not sure what to say for once save for the fact that I enjoyed the read…a rarity for me! How come I have to chase your posts…is this another case of my ‘reader’ thing letting me down again or just the curse of being PC illiterate? I shall have to investigate further!

    • Jessie Martinovic – Author

      Oh thanks Mike. I have come to the conclusion WordPress does not like me, as most of my posts are never in the reader. I put the complaints in my Christmas sock.

      • Christmas sock! Wish list to Santa…on the bloody list…he’s the CEO of WP you know…has an American accent so it must be true!

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