1986
Woman with Clothes Blowing in the Wind
a feeling of oneness
with unknown mysteries
between the form and the content
this layered painted space.
separating figure
from place, or ground
not looking for hierarchy
but in the play between things
looking into the smear
a repetition of the beginning,
3.
Reconciling perceived opposites,
apprehending reality in differing aspects
of continuous and discontinuous motion,
the ongoing, texts of time--
and the frozen timeless moments.
for the gap between,
the cognitive and the perceptual,
in the valley we live.
Unconscious and sprawling
the paint itself finding figures,
a textual skein framing a
formal square (both framed and
in between) a fabric
seeking a surface,
the blade drags the pigment,
close to the origin of paint.
8.
A new deeper space
opens goes back
gets distant
then, contradicted by an edge
banged back to a surface
(from a dream) reverberating
a present past is forwarded.
God, as the reality of this
picture plane, the death of God
and the break-up of the
surface-- this imperfect reality.
the vagabond as the subject,
Achilles gone off
trekking
through the natural world,
attaching vision to striped grounds.
11.
Equating a self to this landscape.
The train winding along the sea,
thoughts gone over
through spume, then distilled
attached and coupled, moving
banging, snaking along
flashing there, here...
evening comes, things change
as night unfolds,
new mysteries.
12.
Chumash Indians in the Sierra
Nevada, at the time of Goya
painting, Women with Clothes
Blowing in the Wind--
tumbling through Sierras in Spain
a dry warm wind of inclusion,
swirling, whirling gyres of winding
reeds, generators of thought
and shells transmitted
through a projectors beam,
shadows of figures
on the tent’s walls
the branches and stars
were framed in the window,
the negative space
came forward and the
leaves went back--
the stars seemed
the atoms of the leaves,
all as one.
no sanctioned belief
the gardener gone,
night falls from the sky,
struggling out
to see what is found
I fear being a part
of this Universe
passing through,
fear fitting too well
into the puzzle
figuring it out? I said, “I can see
the opposite just as well.”
escaping the horizon
looking back,
from the moon
divisions of a planet, blur
into one.
19.
This sadness, a distance
from the object,
an abyss we fall into as
the abstraction becomes
symbol,
distanced from the object, felt
remembered but unseen
now, in the far
abstracting of dusk.
20.
The old woman’s clothes
blown in patterns like shells
thrown through beams of light,
whirling in a wind that
rushes through reeds,
Swoosh--
the stain of purple paint,
peering into the layers
the striping wind in the mind,
equating our thoughts thrown
on walls, gathering skirts
against the universe,
on the high hill of an older time.
Back into the valleys, wandering
the cord winding through the paths,
surfaces toward the sun,
a certain satisfaction in
glimpses of a picture
to Behold!
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