Surrealities

After artist Hannah Coulson that collaged a set of objects with a feel of toys, but which shed light on the invisible, opening up new ways of thinking of the world beyond.

A record player skyline with maroon sun
looms in the neighborhood with shades of
all-wrong. But a street-size box of sunshine
yellow crayons are ready to color their world
after the storm subsides and tides gently ebb.
Politics and religion had bad weather too.
It all left a church & belfry on its side, inside
a box coated with words like asphalt-tar—
its grit black banded with magenta-orange
and streaked with nonbinary pinky-gray
make it all right like any roofing shingle should.
An electric ribbon-walkway connects to another
world of a surreal cartoon king standing behind
flimsy sheetrock nestled among the displaced
lighthouse and a workingman’s house with outdoor
tables and chairs now lying disheveled by wind.
And a few dark-skinned men, but mostly women
and children separated from a very long caravan
of hope are left standing by a surge wall mottled
with seashells and disposable plastic. Hurricanes
didn’t get them and can’t keep them out from
where the true meaning of life blurs with fantasy.