thunder at noon
May 25, 2013 § Leave a comment
time to digest what did not go wrong in surrealism
art like a darkness stretching its blindness before us
eyes on the house: emptiness.
in imagination rain comes clean, allowing us to punish its presence
by not taking part in its existence;
a comic wet sadness
summer of netherlanded hybrid
mono-grey and a return to the tuscan indoors:
as though firelight in a farmhouse kitchen could cure the sky outside of its acid darkness
that is the meaning of being.
not being meaningful, at all,
to empty the nest of its life-and-death dualism, and fly as though movement were a kind of freedom
and not possession of the body by the mind.
every colour loses its value in the context of a painting that does not respect its own silences.