After Hokusai A sudden gust of wind at Ejiri
Four souls among the grasses
Hardened - to the bitter
Breeze – no hiding place.
The Tokaido Road carries
Them toward their fates:
The papers are blown away
With the butts of their day
Is caught in the blinks
Of an eye’s blin’. I
Almost see – they dance
With the wind –
Fuji’s base arc
Kisses the sky and sea –
Up to then, their words:
Ordered, kept, restrained.
The day blows
Away to the future
To the past.
After Stanley Spencer The Baptism (1952)
Beneath, as familiar as the sun you or I know.
They made a door to another land
This door has been opened to many
They who have entered into this place.
They are both primeval and everyday.
The viewers in the…
Stand behind the reclining souls.
Lost from a Roman decedent scene.
Somehow a thread weaves
Them via a base vein of humanity.
Those drops from the bowl/howl in life -
Not just active yet living breath
Giving life as ova & seed
The connectivity of (water – of – life)
There is an absence….
Something; someone perhaps
Appears to be not there.
You, me, perhaps
After Matthew Ritchie painting Portrait in 2064 (2001)
The metaphor is everywhere
In infancy; where does the life,
Punctuated begin. Your simile is not mine.
There must be an image within the image.
The perfect facsimile of the eye
This portrayed eye. Nothing changes, nothing
Can. From 1964, those future junctures,
Abstracted through the imagination and via
The Medias greed – life perfect future tense.
This was, as then, last century -
To reach 35 years hence whose
Musical epoch formed a unique dynasty.
We looked @ each other
Living eyes to know the unknown
And the unknowable – the cigarette burns to extinction.
The hooping states – between.
One, two, four, sixteen,
…and on. And over –
Who are they? – Who?
The portrait painter
100 years hence, in his eye.
What world will we be in?
As 100 years on - can death
Be deferred and deferred ad infinitum.
The fertile years alongside the harsh.
Reflective and those places when
The once long sun used to abide.
This picture in landscape or
Portrait or both. Showing the life
Irredeemable. The frame is caught
Now, forever, for whenever the scene
Besides the remaining life fading -
Among the abstraction and tenses
The obituaries have fallen by the wayside
Images stand in every dimension
Carving history for those born in 2064.
In the world then a stone was cast.
An arm threw a stone, to be lost in the brambles,
Of the masses, in their days punctuated by wages &
Of the daily – disaster, humdrum, and
The world 50 years on would come.
The SF world of fiction and cinema
Escapism got caught up and intertwined
Slowly, slowly, with the daily reality.
Another 50 years on, what will the world be in
2064? For today is as far away as Jupiter or Mars.
The Cold War has been and gone.
In 100 years hence will The Man with the Blue Guitar
Be as tangible as you or I? In this fresh future
Epoch in which this portrait in 2064 exists.