Jordana Loeb

Apple Pillars: echo
roots churning,
twisting upwards through its core.
Wind brushes decay
hollow armour form
holding,
grappling
a December weight.
Ground unsettled and disheveled,
glimpses of pointed yellow remain.

My wood dealer revealed a secret, a process that I would have overlooked. The act of peeling and releasing, unmasking a serpentine of muddled and burnt. The diagonal cuts are intentional. Time continues to carve, exposing waxed cores and wrinkles. The artist transitions from preserver, mortician to creator. Head stretches against, a vacuumed hum resonates. A wooden memory stick.