Fugue Number 2

(Richard Pousette-Dart, painting)

Whomever I am, whatever

I have become

outside myself, apart, detached

like a song repeated in a voice

I’ve never had

or the mirror image of my face

without its eyes nor mine

I soar in space, a spectral bird

on wings of anomie

the darkness carries me

in its wake

whomever, whatever

I have become

wherever I must go

to see once more

what I once was.

The Great Masturbator

(Salvador Dalí, painting)

From the palm of a hand

the power of ten

a swelling appetite

desirous of the self

as if it were another

a thing apart

a bloated monster

heaving at its cage

released

let loose

out of hand and mind

and then to shape

a blind reality

as time stands still

and space contracts.

(Jasper Johns, lithograph)

To make you speak

as if you have a voice your own

I barely move my lips

and you repeat my soul.