Tuesday, January 19, 2021

#457 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?" 

Tuesday, January 12, 2021

#456 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.