Representation II
The orchestra under the cypress
tree kicks into life. A few bars;
& then the scene we’re watching
on the small screen is replicated
on a larger canvas that still permits
the original viewing platform to
be included in the corner, picture-
within-picture style, framed by
the only thing that might be a
goal were it not for the pawn on
top. Or maybe it was the other
way around & downsizing has
occurred. No spectators to see
the “world game” shrunk to three
a-side. The château now a simple
manor house. A lone pianola.
L’esprit et la forme (1928)
There is much to
sing about here.
The glass of water.
The fish out of it
but still swimming
happily around. The
pawn, token of a
game she has just
learnt but is much
taken by. Which she
has natural advant-
ages in since she can
float above it & read
the play as easily as
she can read the myst-
eries of the sea floor.
Tous Les Jours
Up here in the mountains
it is an everyday thing
to come across vestiges of
earlier climbers &/or the oc-
casional earlier painting.
They may present as tracks
in the earth or discarded
equipment. Sometimes as
ghosts or holograms. Stare
at the latter for long enough
& they sometimes become
embarrassed, begin to speak.
In a thin voice that still
sparks echoes, this one says:
“I was once the star of The
Age of Enlightenment. Now
the world has forgotten
me. Am I not still beautiful?”
La Marchande de Sable
Legerdemain & sympathetic
magic are not confined only
to my paintings. Sometimes
I moonlight as the sandman,
tell stories that throw sand
into the listeners’ eyes to
foster dreams that render the
invisible visible. Georgette is
happy just to watch me work;
but on occasion, when I wish
to explain more fully what is
beneath, behind, the current
painting, I sprinkle sand into
her eyes to make her sleep. She
smiles at my explanations; &
at the pipe I leave beside her to
remind her where we’ve been.
