sAyingsometHing

Art, poetry, digital art, photography, criticism and essays.

25 Nov 2008

I am not an artist

I am not an artist and you know that
as well as I do,
but I won't say that
for the sake of honesty.

honesty is puppetry and wilfully
obscure similar to austerity
which has neither whit nor wisdom
fair as blossoms

in a night sky fending off
burrowed springs relate to stars
that shimmy in the omniscient blanket
of rude darkness

or wisdom penetrating knowledge
like a knife through butter.
My darling, if you are the road
upon which I travel

the sky under which I furrow
the eyes of wisdom and whit
fair as your skin
yet as blind as trout

why are you as foolhardy as a man?
As reticent as an idiot when
articulating emotions? As cool
as ice cream,

even that would not melt in your mouth!

I am not an artist, for this
I am sure you can fault me
or others like me, or the Greeks
or the Chinese

or art or art history
or the camera, cinema
or any other thing you wish to take a little
time to ponder

less your arm up stretched and hasten
to hold a light ablazin'
afore your skivin', loungin'
lovin' or couch potatoeing

lonely as a fish out of water
in your house full of ghosts.

A car is a face, now you know that
or you should do by now
even a library full of design books
ain't half a plaice of an excuse

at your age you should know better
like me; I should know better
but I know better still
and writhe from under the sticky labels.

The candle of Winter skies, blows a far
cry from Southern hemispheres, bloated
from a punching sun
while we freeze to death

in days as short as art's first prose
of the year. The Moon is to close to mention
I fear the neap tide
will swallow us whole.

I fear this more than mortgages and bills
far more. Your fears are near the moon
too, you too, gaze at the night sky
a blanket with lovers

strewn in hallucinated patterns
following the cut of frost's
spooky eye right down, right
down to the thrust of rooftops.

I deal too well with emotions to emote,
as is my privilege, as an artist
of sorts, one of canvasses and paints
words and designs

I am given to bursts of energy that
begin at my breathe or my heart beat
and scurry to colours and rhymes.
I can sea the bottom of the ocean

when others can only see
the waves. But a wave, as comprehensible
as it is
has a longevity

far beyond immortality.
At least for today.....

3 Comments:

  • At 4:09 pm , Blogger carmen racovitza said...

    you do not know that
    I like artists
    in all honesty
    I do not say it.

    honesty is similar to Puppetry
    it
    renders persistent the upper part of indistinct legless creatures that small
    part that does not have shade

    still the fair of intelligence
    is hidden under the cover of all the merrygorounds
    found in
    approximate density

    intelligence as a tester

    My favorite , you -you
    you are the road, you
    on which I skytravel,
    under whose eyes of
    skin
    so very blind
    so very unklug
    i live
    therefore hesitating like an idiot from the
    articulation of sensibility
    yep
    so much recent crême frozen,
    levels
    that would be melted not in your mouth but in your brain

    They are not artists,perhaps
    but the Greek or the Chinese say so:
    the art of history is the art of the camera

    you would appreciate the
    return time a little to the point the haste dissipates, a ablazin luminous over
    the layer
    which is completely outside

    only she is like the fish from
    water potatoeing in your house

    you know... fish and chips

    me hallucinating

     
  • At 2:25 pm , Blogger crescent said...

    Thank you Carmen :-)

    Simon

     
  • At 6:30 pm , Blogger carmen racovitza said...

    hm, me playing with words,as usual, simon:):)

     

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