Artist leaving residence

The artist leaves the building.
This time he is
wrapping up
his canvases, colors, and
hairy implements.

He loads and stacks,
lines and lays his tiles, some gently
until tightly packed
for transport.

Some of them,
he jams in just seeming
to fill in
any open spaces he sees.

His neighbor, the lady
living below him,
paints furiously-impressionism,
she is no artist.

She tries to finish
her own piece
before he is gone-
before all falls muted,

from above.
Heaven forbid,
the muse is moving on
to another scene, landscape

perch, set of white walls,
half empty canvases,
or another artistic
aesthetic altogether.

Painting by Thomas Prichard Rossiter, 'A Studio Reception, Paris' c. 1841,[CC0], via Wikimedia Commons.

The hanging of a self-portrait

The man tells the same story,
since it is all he can do.
Demanding to be the center of attention,
he hordes the space under the illumination
of a sole recessed light.

Tells the same stories over and over
to all passing faces and yet
always forgets some very fine lines-

Contrasts come out, where
he smirks slightly,
unbothered by the crackling
of sky overhead, he only looks a-
Head.

Robed in velvet red,
a coat he swore he never wore,
he has positioned his
arms for the ideal pose to portray
of strength and endurance.

The distant family gazes at the portrait
Through centuries and canvases
but sees nothing captivating or similar.
The same (his)stories,
making his image stretched
and one sided.

A life made good-
despite the gilt and frame
that flaunts its ornate opinion
of self.
He was once
a handsome man,
despite the way he looked

at them.

Painting by Albrecht Dürer [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

An Art a part

On PBS the show "Civilization(s)" or some such name,
chronicals the human
                                 
                                 amongst humanity.

In a sense, the dawn of man
thru the hours
to the twilight of Idols.

                                         The
                                  form of self
                            fashioned by and from
                   some self-wanting to express
                                self by making
                                  another self.

Michelangelo famously pardoned his images
(from exile on the mountain),
like Capone on Alcatraz (the Rock)

-sharpness being no more requisite of tooling
than persistence in method(ology).

I doubt they knew
                     who was waiting on the other side. The face emerges
masked in fine dust.
It is a face of surprise
that does not expect
the stranger standing
                                 before Him.

The idea came to me-I did not go to it
                                 and yet
the unexpected visitor
leads the way
                                 by blocking the wrong path-
ways, giving way
to avalanches and mudslides and this (re)arrangement
was an expression                               of liberation
                                from the body.

Water will
evaporate eventually,
the granite
breaks
down
its crystal components.

The two cannot compare

Maker and Made.



 Painting by Lovis Corinth, c. 1904 in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Degrees of profession

Develop a certain

-skill set-

as in business, with cool callousness 

as in karate where

the belt be the crown, that designates 

the title or rank, currently

The executive balancing his arches

strapped acrost the tautly

ill-suited rung to sole,

checks his elevation, adjusts the white collar

and gauges

                    his next move.

Now, 

undo what was taught to you

as a rule, reject the ready-mades-

the artist sees these to steal everywhere,

his palms itch and brow drips with want, 

keeping it in,

he delicately destroys his visions,

brushing this distorted imagery away-

missing the point

                               of manipulation.

But by degrees of depth

-perception-

These Two, these too,

Race like Humans

to make names

that mark more than maker, dreg

on the bottom

left

worse off

The blue suits are more, deflecting danger,

The artist, unafraid of crimson, leaves a line

tethered to nerves

that steal

and is broken 

down to blur.



Self portrait By Manuel Pereira da Silva [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Eurydice got jaundice

Be cause
the slight sulphuric smell
whisked off the top
by the cool purple night
sent signals, scented
words artists understand
as beckoning

-It is safe to come out Now-

And,
as far as frequency may go
undetected
and we hope to scatter awe,
                       curiously as
indiscriminately as dreams
Do.

Why choose these
creators, creatures,
to translate such dark
thoughts to bodily form,

two birds on one stone
already shared the whole sky

what more could be said...

How could feeble eye
capture any more light
with one small grounded
sol

such as
belief in something more there
may be, brighter than this thought
could scatter its spotted array
today
sketched out in perse ink.

Dried pens and then,
bruising egos bright,
all of this goes garish yellow,
away and tinged
in tangibility, catagorically,
and it is no longer clear,

How
my fellow man,
plans to capture
all of this
so beautifully.

The artist listens
to brilliance breathe regularly
in deep starlight strokes and matches its
rhythm. and tries to remember
every thing that has ever been created
for arts sake.

It is reason enough
to wake.

Artwork by John Roddam Spencer Stanhope (1878) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Virtuoso Reality

Image by Scheffer, Victor B. US Fish & Wildlife Service via Wikimedia Commons 

Virtuoso Reality

A poet is a painter
who uses only black
and white and
in-between
the lines
where
form is placed
and lost
delicately staining
the inaccuracy
of vision through the haze
wandering a minds maze
where
wonton thoughts
race mazes
blazing trails
on a quest for truth
seeking a map
of the mind
only to find
where
truths treasure
seeks shelter
waiting to be seen
a picture painted
an image waiting
for the objective observer
you
to exact, form
design and blur
where
muted meanings
twisted tones
hereditary hues
the artistic amalgamation
of a pigmented portrayal
is expressed and etched
a reflection
in windows and mirrors
upon your accessible canvas
where
a picture becomes a poem.

Composed 9/20/14