Musings on Dancers in Blue by Edger Degas

 (An Ekphrasis)

 

Legs bound into pointed satin shoes stretch out lean, pink muscles.

Morning glory skirts are frozen in mid rustle around the dancers’ thighs.

Eyes scan for flaws, fingers fidget with brown curls.

The orchestra’s dissonant cacophony as it tunes itself

Signals for the anticipation to begin.

Lips long to whisper excitedly but

The four dancers are paused in their routine,

Forever immortalized

In a dusky world of pastel brushstrokes.

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Gold (Ekphrasis)

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Something has wrestled you from the Factory

A bite of marzipan between the asscheeks of leatherdaddies

Family tree with no brothers, no sisters

Your spotlight reflects back at my rags

A red cross carved from linens fell to essence, emitted from an angelic visage

Patriarch, Matriarch, Son of a bitch

I’ blind, stumbling backwards like a staggering drunk

Quarantined to leather shared with strangers

It’s campy you know, how your listed

As if anyone had any doubt, who…

I’ve got a little breath now

Tunneled vision leads me back again and again

Now the guards wear dark glasses and speak softly

Your spiked vein trickles vinegar-scented chloroform

Each time I lean forward to try and catch a drop in my mouth

Each time it evaporates

Each time it evaporates just as quickly as it politely sees itself out, hat tipped, coat in arms

We poured out of the same iron snare

I craned my neck to break the embryo just as you did

Siblings by virtue of situation we could have, should have

Been shat out of the doggedly sedated slit of doppelgangers

Twice now I’ve felt this humbling presence

Without hesitation, I’ll promise to never look for another similarity

L’Avion n°3 de Clément Ader

HELD TOGETHER

WITH COPPER-PLATED UPHOLSTERY NAILS

A FANTASTICAL CREATION

HANGS SUSPENDED

IN MID-FLIGHT.

 

DESIGNED BY A RAILWAY MAN

ITS DETAIL EXQUISITE

YET THE PHYSICS REMAIN FLAWED.

 

WHO COULD ARGUE THAT A STEAM ENGINE

COULD NOT LIFT THE WINGS OF A BAT,

WHEN IT HAD YET TO BE TRIED?

 

A HISTORIC BEAUTY HANGS

AIRBORNE ONLY WITH ITS HEART REMOVED

THIS SLEEK ENGINEERING

SEEMS TO HAVE STUDIED SOLEY THE AESTHETIC.

 

HOW CURIOUS

THAT WITH THE INTRICACY OF 8 HAND-CARVED FEATHERS

THE IMPORTANCE OF SIGHT WAS FORGOTTEN.

 

LEAVING THE MAN IN THE STIRRUPS

AS BLIND AS THE BAT SKELETON TO WHICH HE CLINGS.

 

 

 

 

Exphasis on the video 3 Women, by Bill Viola

a bloodless mother and two daughters talk wordlessly,

their hands joining,

agreeing to amble forward.

Their presence is ethereal and familiar.

Each foot stables the others’.

Water begins to seep out of the screen,

pressure blistering as they near,

increasing authenticity.

The mother lets go of her babies’ hands,

advancing into the world of pigment.

She wipes her head of wetness,

so she can see and breath lucidly,

taking her eldest’s hand to join her.

The sister reaches into the blackness for the little one

and she emerges with playfulness in her eyes.

The little one looks relieved.

As she wipes the water from her eyes,

her mother backs into a lifeless form again.

The eldest acquiesces

It pains to see the littlest alone in this world.

As eldest keeps a sternness to her,

she reaches into the incarnate for her sister.

The littlest takes a closing look at the beauty in this realm.

In her summoned world:

Her dreams do not include her,

Her movement does not involve her;

she rushes like the moon in the daylight.

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