Saturday, October 3, 2015

October 3

Here are some of Klee's paintings:


  1. Entangled in the lines and the shades
    Always searches for the meaning
    with apocalypse on the horizon
    The moment I try
    The motion of true meaning
    comes to fruition
    Painting becomes
    less a burden

    1. This comment has been removed by the author.

    2. Daryl! I'm so glad to see you back! Great poem!!!

  2. A Destroyed Place

    Memories of what once was
    hiding in the shadows
    afraid to come out
    afraid to open their eyes

    Scars form on the surface
    hiding the pain inside
    afraid from within
    afraid there's nothing left

    Memories of what once was
    hiding in the blackness
    afraid of what is
    afraid it has not gone

    Scars form on the surface
    hiding a beating heart
    afraid of being discovered
    afraid of what's still to come

    Memories of what once was
    hiding behind broken windows
    afraid to look out
    afraid of what can see in

    Scars form on the surface
    hiding a secret hope
    afraid to get too high
    afraid to come into the light

    Memories of what once was
    hiding from the metal lions
    afraid of their tamers
    afraid of the iron whips

    Scars form on the surface
    hiding the bruises and shame
    afraid to trust
    afraid to reach out

    Memories of what once was
    their time to push back will come
    there will be no more hiding
    they will arise from the destroyed place

    1. I love the repetition here Molly! It's really working!

  3. So I wrote on one particular painting because his paintings seemed all so different to be lumped into one big thematic poem. This particular one is on "An allegory of Propoganda"

    Its head is lopsided, precariously straddling a post no bigger than a pencil top. I guess you could say that’s a neck, but even Sir Isaac Newton would tell you the point which the head is poised is not the correct center of mass. It would be bound to fall sometime were the face not shoved against a brick wall, the propoganda, if you will. When cornered with propoganda, the human face distorts so their parts aren’t at their full function. The face’s nose is pointed away from the wall—as though he can smell a rat in this dark alley, but his eyes and mouth are pointed towards the large brick wall. It’s best this way—if it smells like a rat, but one cannot see to verify this, then clearly, it must not be a rat. Heaven forbid, one decide to speak when they only have half their senses to rely on. Perhaps the most upsetting of this face is the ears, which has changed to two S’s, like a snake’s hiss. The ear is unable to hear anything else, other than the hiss of propoganda. What a waste of a part so necessary for survival. Perhaps it’s best the subject is crunched against bricks after all.

    1. I love this poem! I love your approach and style, which is chatty and even ironic!

  4. Klee’s allegorical self and floods

    Storied self mirrored in the pale
    Mouth lopsided with no words to say
    Active eyes rounding big yet blind
    Ears failing to hear the om.

    Walk beside the rubble chaos
    Collatoral lives ended by rifle rules.
    Homeless tent blocks sidewalks passage
    Trade deals sweep away what’s left.

    Noah’s floods engulf again
    Courage weakly strives to meet the day
    From hard black line, pale rose emerges
    A color witness that life survives.

  5. Reduce all that is
    Vexing and annoying
    Into a distillation of simplicity
    Like a patchwork quilt full of color
    Forget the tedium of a planned
    Geometry or piecework with careful stitches

    that wiggle relaxes
    while this uneven deception laughs
    as it frolics with reality
    crease into a frown
    and approach the most senseless
    deformation of myself as a woman
    invaded by the sun and the moon
    sprawled lifeless on the museum floor

  6. Interview Circuit (Klee's Twittering Machine)

    The hook and triangle
    echo network of coat

    hangers—they twitter—know
    the way to cook marshmallows
    around the exclusive
    fire caramelized
    stuck to the deformed
    handle makeshift torch hands sticky
    we assemblages
    the twisted mobiles of the unassisted

    school project
    the circling
    kosmos of un-nested
    raptors—the flock of wolve-mates
    spun fleece and wings nip
    the botched street side

    removal of the child the way
    some of us try to

    straighten what is seen as deformed mettle
    to find someplace to put our clothes on
    the hook and the triangle
    this furry night before the next interview
    the closed door laughing at your
    need no matter which side of it
    you are on
    we are

    to know shame
    we must first know pride to know
    pride we must first do unseen
    work and those that think they know our worth with their hands
    all over us
    to distract themselves

    some meteor of sugary flesh
    they cannot blow out.

  7. Cat and Bird

    bird nests
    above the cat's eye
    free in danger