unproven theories

akin to loud booms 💥

Apr 16, 2025

**Juan A. Franco Ricardo**, *much needed park for when the mood is pensive* (2025, digital photograph or performance. [a whole album’s worth of time saw the sky change from orange to evening blue. an encroaching blue from above seeps through the leafless trees at night. like foreshadowings of summer, the lampost glow like fireflies, a tease of what’s to come. a newly planted field, already much greener that my last encounter. a line divides the field from the path in front of us, a threshold to cross, a slight diagonal with a left to right illusion].

the light rain prickled our faces, likely hiding the already protruding wetness of my eyes. just before, inside, it felt like a knife swinging in midair, its handle connected to no known source. then outside, many stops, chaotic turns and necessary physical expressions. the kind you walk into surrounded completely. bourdain appeared above me holding a tool to swiftly kill a fish, this, i am assuming. i was not connected to the sound and there were no subtitles. my mouth open while bourdain brands this object and then presses it through the head in a motion that appears much too easy. an electric squirm of death resulting in the chaos of flesh and blood still moving, still pumping. life after death. then a smoking grill, cut skin, and cooking. bold choice for the dentist. back inside, bass lines that produce smiles, tapping boots and hip sways. a glowing appreciation for the sequence of the chosen songs, waterworks at the capital. the public library does in fact rent a selection of instruments (musical), unfortunately not the one that has been pressing my ears, making them warm. the book ended with a scene in bright sounds, warm sights, loud colors, an overwhelming saturation of chaotic images. the poet saw something for the very first time.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

in cleaning, in cleansing
a song derived from within
no sound, just warmth all over 

[glowing smile]

studio

**Juan A. Franco**, *study for SRP*, 2025, digital collage. [what’s more cliché than columns holding the weight of this collage. they seperate the top third and the bottom third, abstract the former, more representational the latter. peering above the columns a yellow sky hides behind a gray wash of textures. the yellow of the sky hangs around like a lazy summer drifting through humid air. the bottom sections encounters a similar gray wash. However, it is heraldically flanked by the underside of a foot, a possible view if the the subject is arriving to prostrate form, on the left, and a table cloth american flag with hints of a hand and handcuffs, on the right. there are people by the columns, one, look back at us. imagining their own acts of prostration].

the images are torn on contact, a decision to pull and break apart into new shapes. the tearing reaction to an interesting images is witnessing my decision to acknowledge the aesthetic value of something. it can never only be what is been shown, but what can be remade. this is because of what associations i am able to make, to my emotional being, they way an already-seen image, shifts to the object of the day. every day, life triumphs into providing potential. today, there was a moment where i “heard” my thoughts, i don’t think this has happened, they are usually quiet things, barely electric whispers. these were different, an externalized sound wave reflected back to me to perceive. it provided fear and awe, especially as the sun peered miraculously through the dense cloud of the day. tossing paper down as the light passes through glass, allows for this contact. a loud boom but in the language of the visual.