RED CHAIR
THANK YOU Tess, for Magpie Tales
PASSAGEWAY
Half demolished,
the house of early days.
Windows,
shapes without glass,
every breath,
freed from the walls,
now part of the wind.
All I feared
were simply tales,
old wives whistling.
Days of first dreams
now have
the weight of silk, fraying.
Chairs splinter into fossils,
specters work.
Timid memories
float from my mind.
All phantoms left behind,
asleep in Samsara.
I pick up a key
to swift passage.
Copyright/ All rights reserved/ 2012
http://www.minblu.blogspot.com
http://twitter.com/lynxny
SQUALL/ 1986/ Andrew Wyeth
THANK You, Tess...for Magpie Tales.
TEMPEST
Flung open the door,
grabbed my binoculars,
fine-tuned to the prospect
of bird watching.
No need for
a yellow slicker today,
still wet from yesterday's tempest.
Sun, like weak tea,
paints itself into a corner,
spreading over the crazed wall.
No ships at sea now.
A blameless horizon
backing away,
heading for a smooth current,
leaving the shore
piled high with splinters.
Once had names.
copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2012
http://www.minblu.blogspot.com
http://twitter.com/lynxny
WOMAN READING/ 1970/ Will Barnet
5/25/11- 11/13/12
My muse, a print of this hangs over my desk. I see it dozens of times a day. It is always dynamic, pure, full of zest, and life. This is a portrait of the artist's daughter, reading a book, with the seemingly coziest cat ever.
Will Barnet, known for beautifully stylized portraits, died on Tuesday, November 13, 2012, at his home in Manhattan. He was 101 years old.
RIP
Photo/ Anthony Brown
Will Barnet, National Medal Of Arts recipient... painter, printmaker, receives Medal from Pres. Obama at East Room ceremony at the White House. On Feb.13, 2012.
copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2012
http://www.minblue.blogspot.com
http://twitter.com/lynxny
Verdun, 1917/ Felix Vallotton
THANK YOU, Tess for Magpie Tales...
ELEVEN ELEVEN
What color dust
have you become?
Did you drink in red
as you were sliced?
Is it soul or skin
that drifts upwards
to add a stain
to the eternal cloth?
I'm the shade of hell,
the mud trench we died in.
You sink into me.
A raven calls the time,
eleven, eleven.
On my back
dead eyes
stare at the azure sky.
Part of forever now,
I'm the blue in the rainbow,
don't search
beyond that
for me.
copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2012
http://www.minblu.blogspot.com
http://twitter.com/lynxny
CHARIS/ Lake Ediza, CA./ 1937/ Edward Weston
THANK YOU, Tess, at Magpie Tales.
CHARIS
Weston's Charis shows her face,
and my eyes are pulled
to that pretty gaze,
boys boots, girls tease.
I wonder which,
but then I spot the access,
the exit,
between her legs.
I was born from that canal.
I see the slit,
covered with layers of modesty.
Beneath the rough cloth,
folds of fine silk,
softest porn.
Great artists do more
than one thing at a time.
Manet's Olympia
looks my way,
seduces,
then dresses to serve
with motherly grace.
Copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2012
http://www.minblu.blogspot.com
http://twitter.com/lynxny
