#510 The Emergence

 
"Put it into perspective," the
fado singer says as the white
bird wheels away & takes
the daytime with it. "Except
for the stars, the sky will be 
empty now for several hours; 
& though having a supposed 
symbol of hope around might 
at first seem comforting, grief 
is best left to emerge when one
is in the open or beside the sea. 
Clean, simple. No melodrama."

#509 La Porte Ouverte

The painter, flushed with
pride from the achievement
of turning Venus de Milo in
to flesh before he posed her

in a meadow, finally recog-
nizes his hubris when the
shadow that has started
following him everywhere

makes him aware that any
statue can stand still for
long enough to have a beard
& mustache painted on them.

#508 The Childhood of Icarus

We lived in a house full of
models for, & details from,

paintings. Inside & out. My
father showed me how to

use the wings he built by
teaching me how to ride a

a horse & wield a whip. 
Everything so large when I

was young, save for the Sun
which seemed so far away.