Blog | PNW Artist Jennifer Preston Chushcoff | byJenn

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Jan 18, 2018
1 min

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Spacetime What is this enchantment coming in waves, inhabiting the empty spaces, blue and green memories, sky and earth everlasting? And it all comes back in an old book with soft and tattered covers I disappear between and drift out. It conjures a faraway bookstore and all our adventures in-between continents crossed, love made and lost. You discovered yourself and a fluency, which haunts and hollows me. #byjenn #chushcoff #poetry #jennifer #love #poem #sp

Untitled

Jan 18, 2018
1 min

Untitled

Spacetime What is this enchantment coming in waves, inhabiting the empty spaces, blue and green memories, sky and earth everlasting? And it all comes back in an old book with soft and tattered covers I disappear between and drift out. It conjures a faraway bookstore and all our adventures in-between continents crossed, love made and lost. You discovered yourself and a fluency, which haunts and hollows me. #byjenn #chushcoff #poetry #jennifer #love #poem #sp

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Jan 17, 2018
1 min

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Amor Fati All creation is violence. A rift in the fabric. Split and spilled. Torn asunder. Our infinite collisions sparking life. The First Act, a parting. This from that. Light. Dark Land. Sea. You. Me. How long did it last, Eve’s life with Adam and his animals? Eve, made of ribs, numbers 3-5, which is why the heart aches and emptiness weighs so heavy there. Why don’t we remember, the fatal fruit was planted, tended, divine to eat? You spat out the seeds to sow t

Untitled

Jan 17, 2018
1 min

Untitled

Amor Fati All creation is violence. A rift in the fabric. Split and spilled. Torn asunder. Our infinite collisions sparking life. The First Act, a parting. This from that. Light. Dark Land. Sea. You. Me. How long did it last, Eve’s life with Adam and his animals? Eve, made of ribs, numbers 3-5, which is why the heart aches and emptiness weighs so heavy there. Why don’t we remember, the fatal fruit was planted, tended, divine to eat? You spat out the seeds to sow t

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Dec 5, 2017
1 min

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Proxima Centauri It is in the way the fruit blossoms forth from a spent flower, in the things not said, the way the sun stays a careful distance from the flesh. Still, the fruit grows round and turgid, the vine reaches out, thickens, blessed by the heat. It is in the silences that pass between. Fruit. Sun. Separated by millions of miles, yet influencing the daily habits of shadows, nightly dreams. When tomatoes sleep what conjurings occur? #NASA #tomato #proxima

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Dec 5, 2017
1 min

Untitled

Proxima Centauri It is in the way the fruit blossoms forth from a spent flower, in the things not said, the way the sun stays a careful distance from the flesh. Still, the fruit grows round and turgid, the vine reaches out, thickens, blessed by the heat. It is in the silences that pass between. Fruit. Sun. Separated by millions of miles, yet influencing the daily habits of shadows, nightly dreams. When tomatoes sleep what conjurings occur? #NASA #tomato #proxima

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Dec 5, 2017
1 min

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The Wishing Well The water tastes of iron, blood. The lost and looking bleed dreams, surround me in copper winks, glimmering wishes. The water feels heavy with hope, thick with silence. It’s difficult to swim but I carry on, as best I can. The water moves with the moon, even down here, in the dark. I offer her the orphaned dreams, carry them to the surface each night to spangle the sky. Someday, someone will wish for me. The water smells like wet rock wher

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Dec 5, 2017
1 min

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The Wishing Well The water tastes of iron, blood. The lost and looking bleed dreams, surround me in copper winks, glimmering wishes. The water feels heavy with hope, thick with silence. It’s difficult to swim but I carry on, as best I can. The water moves with the moon, even down here, in the dark. I offer her the orphaned dreams, carry them to the surface each night to spangle the sky. Someday, someone will wish for me. The water smells like wet rock wher

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Nov 7, 2017
1 min

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Ghost Girls You quietly do so things get done. But, there is no victory parade for having and holding, for bearing babies for eating while feeding, for sleepless nights and keeping watch. You hold fast, do not shatter apart too often. Unsinkable in the muck of everyday. Breaking apart, little by little you put yourself together again each morning. Waiting for no one to save you. To the invisible hands that prepare, nurture, direct- I see you. To the invisible hearts that

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Nov 7, 2017
1 min

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Ghost Girls You quietly do so things get done. But, there is no victory parade for having and holding, for bearing babies for eating while feeding, for sleepless nights and keeping watch. You hold fast, do not shatter apart too often. Unsinkable in the muck of everyday. Breaking apart, little by little you put yourself together again each morning. Waiting for no one to save you. To the invisible hands that prepare, nurture, direct- I see you. To the invisible hearts that

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Oct 21, 2017
1 min

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Put your ear to your arm, better yet, your wrist. You will hear the ocean inside roar, rush through, barely breaking to beat, your tide’s ocean echo, our rise and fall. Fast-fast-faster in love until it burns through your being and the sky inside erupts into stars. Put your head to my chest. It’s on repeat. You’re safe, you’re safe with me. My heart moves with you In you For you. #Water #photography #chushcoff #poetry #jennifer #love #poem #preston

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Oct 21, 2017
1 min

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Put your ear to your arm, better yet, your wrist. You will hear the ocean inside roar, rush through, barely breaking to beat, your tide’s ocean echo, our rise and fall. Fast-fast-faster in love until it burns through your being and the sky inside erupts into stars. Put your head to my chest. It’s on repeat. You’re safe, you’re safe with me. My heart moves with you In you For you. #Water #photography #chushcoff #poetry #jennifer #love #poem #preston