Timmy Mizicko
mizickovich
aka billytombs
dba Timothy Lee DePriest

writing archives


the writer:

William Tombs





This is from a work titled ‘the rosemary amethyst’ (2010)

the cinema – (e)scape : the story-scope : the nickel-odeon
the beginning – simple :
a boy – a city – a bicycle – a camper – a broom closet
: a question of union – a style of meditation – a plot ?
    a fairy’s tail

too many questions…

une histoire of becoming…an artista - of the writing and the making
of cinema – the scenes of how my life should have been – ‘the’ life
should have been – ‘all’ life should have been – should be – simple –––
‘i’ – the scene of the lifetron : the scene of the imaginarium :
the scene of the ultimatium…

a tiny girl steps from behind the painting and waxes poetic :
    and rhapsodizes in gold
a man with a fedora and cigarette pulls out a recorder :
    and soliloquies in copper
a beautiful woman wraps me in her scarf :
    and spirit-carries in silver

the artist moves on…and out…(and east)

a book about a film about a book about a boy (who would be king)
a heartbreaking work of staggering cinema – where the dream happens
and then it is over and done. capiche ?

the moments are precious – precise – each holding the full lot of truth:
i see my-self searching out this tiny bit of truth
    of moments on moments
until all collide into that one final moment.

o, may i never forget to dream that moment of illumination

i reexamine the immediate to-do list: vintage hand-made angel wings –
examination chair wired within the light fantastic – chiropractor
viewing eye…




* * *




This is from the same work titled ‘the rosemary amethyst’ (2010)

i find myself in bed with sparkling-white sheets
    crisp – whiteness and clean-ness
    the scent of perfect sun
        curtains billow and glow
        from unmistakable light
        – surrounding from all sides
        – outside in
i hesitate to talk of heaven
yet the symphony plays on
    – breath has turned (in)to God – at:men to at:man
    – the dispeller of darkness stands before me
    we are complete synchrony
    in our silence
i have the habit
    to leave him little yellow flowers
    that I find poking up through the weeds
he exchanges me the gentle voice
    the one searched out
    (this gentle mixed with a subtle ferocity)
it is in the shape of the world book atlas
    – with the inside hollowed out
    – making it more of a box
      than a book
      or a voice

within I find a note which reads :

        babu,

                Truth is Love
                Love is Truth
                search out that which lies behind the uvula

                the modern mona lisa can be found
                in your 5 sets of 12