From the Beginning

The world has flashed me an exit sign
Screaming that dead dreams have no heartbeat
If I get out today, resuscitation may be on the table
But I’m still here

I know now that romance is the dust of a hazy glamour
And Paris is made of concrete and pickpockets
Cities born of angels spend their nights cleaning up feathers
But I’m still here

Every day with you is one less layer of skin
There are no more nails for this coffin, the straw has landed on the camel
When I crawl bleeding into the night, I’ll do it alone
But I’m still here

Because this was never about romance
All my dreams were borrowed from experienced fools
Diamond traders outsold by zirconia. We sparkle just as brightly
So I’m still here

I still live in a world of jewelry and caskets, dirt and halos
Of beauty and uncertainty and falsehood and imagery
My only constant is that you never lied to me
And that you’re still here

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Reaction to Paris, Los Angeles, and this quote by Elinor Glyn

Reaction to selections from the ePhoenix Art Gallery

Today’s post comes in two poems that showcase my reaction to several paintings from the Phoenix Art Museum‘s online gallery. I know its a lot of links, but the poems read better if you’ve seen the paintings.

1. Stretch

Kelly Mclane
Big Gen X, 2004

We are stark (two-toned/ a tympani)
Not what you think (forget the black and white)
Balance high over our world (we made it/ too small)
We’re torn (we can only hear to one side)
Between the spaces of our youth (falling)
And the spaces of our wire frame (it can’t hold water)
Take a minute (it’s all we have)
To count the smudges (we’ll wait/ we’ve learned that much)
That have become our life

2. The Spaces Between

Philip C. Curtis

The Concert, 1960 / The Game, 1976

Stand apart
separate focus
ostensibly identical goals
rule of polite people
above all

After Dinner Speakers, 1974

Now remain apart
an idea per table
breaches the rule
to be heard
above all

The Fight, 1961

Impractically apart
new rule of anger
handed down
polite string master
from above all

The Lift, 1972

Lost apart
can’t find it
hold on to separate focuses
before we become human
riding here
above all