Wednesday, October 21, 2015

October 21

Magritte's painting


  1. I'm So Much More

    I'm so much more than what they see
    there's much more than this in side of me
    a desperate soul, who longs to be free
    who wishes just to be

    I'm so much more than who they know
    there's so many places I wish to go
    whether at lightning speed, or terribly slow
    destination makes my heart glow

    I'm so much more than what they think
    there's so much more than food and drink
    than coming and going, from beyond the brink
    my desires are my missing link

    I'm so much more than what they praise
    there's something better than a latest craze
    to travel out, beyond the haze
    I want to get lost in the maze

    I'm so much more than even I'm aware
    there's still a mystery in my air
    but the world's not ready, for me to share
    and I'm not quite ready to care

    1. Thanks Molly. Your phrasing and rhyme and journey are grand.

    2. Yeah, you are really someone who knows how to use rhyme!

  2. Yes.
    The egg-ly matter
    Poised on a landing strip
    Casts a shadowed rim
    Taps a hollow thunk
    Chalks to taste
    And touches cold.

    This visible plain
    Is superficial
    What we perceive
    Who we think we are, and
    Our notion, of other
    Nanosecond marked.

    Lies beyond thought
    It is essence
    To child:
    It’s a roll-y spinning top
    To youth:
    A salted breakfast scramble
    To householder:
    A sweet rising dove
    To nomad:
    A precious broken shell
    To sage:

    1. Love this and the way it breaks into a kind of surrealism itself.

  3. metamorphosis of man, canvas, bird and egg, hung in the gallery where everything is auctioned

    we start with the bird
    and the egg then move on to paint
    and magritte
    who speaks of the whole
    of the dreg we
    start with the bird and the egg
    crack shell
    wing arm
    until they beg
    as oubliette we begin
    to eat we
    with the bird and the egg
    then move on to paint and magritte.

  4. Rene Magritte Clairvoyance

    only the egg
    knows if god will give
    her wings

  5. In the still life painting
    the egg’s porous shell
    casts a hard oval shadow
    on a tablecloth while a bird’s
    streamlined feathers are poised
    to flap away from an artist’s easel.

    Life is encapsulated in his tight frame
    until the wife blocks the sunlight. Her
    harsh voice bounces off the walls.
    She’s pregnant, she says, by another
    man. She spins away and the air
    smells of laundry.

    The painter’s brush has fallen
    his chair is overturned but he is
    too late, she is leaning on
    someone else’s arm, and is gone.

    He curses, pulls off his tweed
    jacket, his waxed hair undone,
    enraged, he kicks and howls
    the paint splatters,
    his existence is no longer still,
    or unmoving, but lived.