and i am persona non grata plus on the internet, so my mistakes are:
errors.
Francis Ponge said that to err is divine. (I feel querulous about omitting that Ponge said it about Picasso, who except for the minotaur series, spent so much of his life coming closer, near, nearer, almost like Holderlin, but Holderlin was real and Picasso is a dangerous mix of charlatan and genius, with an eye on the prizes, that were it not for the war, might have buried the artist and left his shadow, the greatest draftsman since, I forget, Velasquez, Vermeer and or I hope one other painter who executed more than forty paintings in their entire life lifetime,
worth more than... but with less profit to siphon from the artist in competition with an age of mechanical reproduction.
Say that last sentence again three times and if you don't begin to sound like a machine, then that's swell, just swell, swell the word coopted by movie banter to neuter the men who who were such god sports;
the women I don't know don't mention good sport when they talk about the guy they're with for now while waiting -- "A.F." "for a ... man?"
For a man women wait in the gloaming in Winslow Homer,
anxious, holding their breath or breathing deeply to stave off the panic they know they have no control over
or it would be another half and half, sincere and yet a performance.
Pequod, international literary journal
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Deleteand i am persona non grata plus on the internet, so my mistakes are:
ReplyDeleteerrors.
Francis Ponge said that to err is divine.
(I feel querulous about omitting that Ponge said it about Picasso, who except for the minotaur
series, spent so
much of his life coming
closer, near, nearer,
almost like Holderlin,
but Holderlin was real
and Picasso is
a dangerous mix of charlatan and genius,
with an eye on the prizes, that were it not
for the war, might
have buried the artist and left his shadow,
the greatest draftsman since,
I forget, Velasquez, Vermeer and or I hope
one other painter who executed more than forty paintings in their entire life lifetime,
worth more than...
but with less profit to siphon from the artist in competition with an age
of mechanical
reproduction.
Say that last sentence again three times
and if you don't begin to sound like a machine,
then that's swell, just swell, swell
the word coopted by movie banter
to neuter the men who who were such god sports;
the women I don't know don't mention good sport
when they talk about the guy they're with for now
while waiting -- "A.F." "for a ... man?"
For a man
women wait
in the gloaming
in Winslow Homer,
anxious, holding
their breath or breathing
deeply to stave off the panic
they know they have no control over
or it would be
another half and half,
sincere and yet a
performance.
Takers?
A
Delete