It connects me back

Someone at artsy found my old Escher tags and asked that I link them as a resource. I take this as an exercise, a chance to return to writing here and revisit ancient posts.

Escher exacts a paradox, which is that things change and stay the same. Escher shows how something can be both precise and bizarre, logical and impossible.

Looking back at my posts from seven years ago, I see a version of me who felt lost, trapped. I am wowed by the wordplay and amused at the naivete. I've grown up some since then, but at the same time, I have failed to live up to the intelligence of my immediate post-college searches.

I was trying back then. I lacked hope, but I yearned. Though my situation distressed me, I used my ordered words to transcend my plane.

I was cycling through the same steps. I doubted my powers of flight.

My past self would have resented this nostalgia, this romanticizing of a dismal time, but I am grateful for the record of who I was several tessellations ago.

If we have consolation it is not solely in advancement but in continuity.

Passport to Impossible

His labors bequeathed us infinity
Sending legions of lizards, birds, men, fish to claim
Unknown territory
His devotion allows us to dwell within dissonance 
To pass within the walls of impossible houses
Losing footing but never perspective
Expanding unreal estate
Curves of mind's rind unwinding
Wood blocks as windows
Reversing so often reflection is reflex

Existentialist sect

Monotonous monks in meditative exercise
Gray footfall upon Penrose steps
Life's sentence of frozen quiescence or
Transcendence in endless ascent and descent?
Banal is impossible is banal is impossible 
Behavior etched, repetition pressed
This isn't what I was expecting