THE SITTER For Vincent Blue and golden, red and brown your flesh color shines through. Translucent like those piercing eyes that look from you. Vincent this is for you, my painted words. I hope this shows you in a light That you are used to, Van Gogh Van Goff how we pronounce is Nothing to do with you, the light Encircles your eyes like Pools of water you seen through A spyrol of existence, shining you. I want to paint your picture but In words. I hope I can do you justice Like the pleasure you gave to me. Tone and tone on shadow like you Used to portray, this is not a canvas Just a clean white space filled with Strokes from a brush stroked blue. I have no memory of my own so You will have to do, dead I hope You don’t mind being the sitter.
BURN YOUR BONES I’m looking at the trees because That’s all there is to look at Existence non-existence, beauty Is beautiful although their bare. The sun shines through the naked Branch and lights up my day. It and I keep reaching higher like A bud does in blue/grey sky. I hear the blackbirds out there Cawing nurturing nature’s way. I can see the bottom/top today. Nature has its way of showing it all It throws a coin, nearest to the wall. It shows me I have won just like The blackbirds caw, there’s food on That their soil, nourishment for Another day to feast not to toil. Roots they make me stronger reach down ever higher, you can burn your bones on this funeral pyre.
A BLOG OF IMAGES AND POME'S.... ISINGLASS Reading Elizabeth Bishop, the poems blur Like looking through as she says: ’ isinglass’ Everything becomes translucent, mapped out On the page. Her rhymes aren’t just rhymes but Fixtures of life, they find their own form. Wow, I wish I could write like that I don’t even have any form but I’m searching For her sequence in the inlets of Donegal At the Fishouses along the Ray River I saw them somewhere before. Going through old poems to find sea shore I hope this poem moves in and out And reflects her sense of belonging I’ll never get the old man and the sea. Not now that I’m here all alone but I can read a master in my own seal-skin.
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