#6 Back 2 the Studi0
1.
Painting’s death arrived
once more, with each announcement
It was we
who were dying
The, what that suffices,
back in the library
asleep, through the years,
revolving
stars turn
dipper dipping
all forward motion, it seems
can't step into the river twice
but if one ran far and fast
enough ahead one could
see it coming
his, dreams in white shapes
he’d seen before
in deep space
reaching out and taking it
for mine
those dreams far away
those paintings-- dead
those sun flowers-- waving
those, something over
the western mountain
2.
the rainbow--
bending
he was on track again
in the studio
that was all that mattered
he was adding paintings
to the pile that yielded--
he repeated, but never repeated
these imageS, like yesterday
today, so that they--
embedded-- he drew
automatic like
became his soul’s world
knew them by heart--
he wasn’t sure if the corny, clichés
sounded like archetypes
his own,
hardened, images
OF CHURCH
well, he knew he had to go on
bending them to new shape
those painted in Madrid
they evolved into
the distant, sun
maybe too exuberant
3.
falling in flame
untitled:
in the stars
the ship in the night
massive, dark
silent slivering, that Greek
severity of line
history's weight
of wrong--
Short shank--
was light weight
even
a little carried away--
prone to, to become
well, transported!
13.
thoughts all dressed up
and striped, evolving
having decorative effect
the story flying through,
at right moment, then gone--
BIG BIRD flying through
his story
David’s small birds
repeating, it all, becoming more
and again through
the repetition
ritual was his religion
here, in the studio
any home he had
was here, he chanted--
the square DEIFIC
he drew the distance there
this head floating
in the landscape
this landscape of thought, floating
his drifting ideas
through shells spiraling
through clouds, leaves
stain of ink drip
blotch of color, bleeding
14.
the waves
the wind-- it roared, it all changeD
the moments vanishing
all the poetry through
new combinations now meeting
the old-- become Art in
a big smear of paint
the ruined truth at his feet
he looked into
the wind, returned
and he saw the future
continuing
one continues
he thought he’d reached a limit
of his vocabulary
and thought
this repetition
that is ME, he thought
the limit, in that death, HE!
I’ll make something
out of it all, determined--
that tree in the mind
that center of the earth
that nature out there
the object
15.
of many
realities sought, in that Tree
out there he said his mother,
called it the old rugged cross
all that she left
he was near the end
he just wanted to toss
It all, never
got close
repeated
what he mimicked
from elsewhere
no—he thought he was getting there
somewhere
like he said to me
here and there
can’t name it
its there
the Genius
in the mountain
or under it, the land
the vision it offers of breath
and the whole cycle, they thought once of
what was America
and what it reflected upon the figure
16.
that American place
that snow blowing
up there
that orange Square
ETERNAL SHAPE
Sacred height
THE repeating epiphany
and falling,
sink— the blare of horn, that
red sky repeating
17.
the sneakers banging around
the dryer to spring
the saints relics all neatly folded
his life, he muttered
the cracked painting
some scene
with the butterfly net pursuing
the beauty, the path--
beauty on the right
a tree on the left
the mountain ahead
the sun
ascending
to height--
the beauty
you get the idea, right?--
the stars, repeating
revolving through
and down
he was back at the
supermarket checkout
flipping thru calendar pictures
the fashion magazines,
Cowboy Life,
he was talking to himself
18.
I mean, he started to say--
Well, it went on
that was the poem
meaning how it went, it
was like
spots of time
all lined up
reflected in tranquility
how to turn it to the inside
there an eternal hum like resonance
being here
that always new
new, he had to throw aside
it was all dead ends
he just forgot it all
the next morning, in the oatmeal
that thought-- streaked
across the sky
fell to earth
the boredom dissipated
he was talking about gravity
the seasons coming round
there was the physical
proof, science
everyone is reading, Evolution
19.
Darwin they said got it right
one sees
red and yellow diamonds
breaking into black and white
a crumbling,
this fallen state is history
fall into history
out of the symbolic
the symbolic, Orange height
back into a descriptive history
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