Ink blot bronzes
Rodin began with copper and tin, with phosphorus and aluminum added in
to render the bronze in his furnace. He stoked the fire to a rage
not the idle luxury of normal men, spelling danger. Thoroughly brooding
today, he made a wax cast of a person thinking.
It received the fire water like a drunk thirsty for redemption.
Just one drink, I’ll prove it to myself today. The bronze cracked the mold
as it cooled and expanded furrows of the minding man, the cast of his knuckles
bare fists readied for buffeting the next ill guest bringing láthspell and omens.
There’s an empty lake trumpeting the songs of the swans. I want you to color
this sketch with your full imagination to fill the reeds by the side of the water,
have you? See them fully and coax shadow to lend dimension, but only in ink!
There’s no art to be had in pencil–uninterrupted brush strokes instead.
In Japanese calligraphy there is no rumination because one might tear the paper
with deliberation. Bashō worked his haiku with a pen.
Nice Artful piece.
Impressive! A lot of work went into writing this poem. I especially love the simile: ” like a drunk thirsty for redemption.” Great job!
This is a very good read and quite beautiful too. I love this: “I want you to color this sketch with your full imagination to fill the reeds by the side of the water, have you?”
I think poetry is most like sculpture. You have to get rid of everything else first to get to the right word. This and all your poems are finely sculpted
Thanks Jim. That is kind.
I am afraid of my art. Your poem reminds me.
Firstly, I love the poem. It is beautiful and mad and full of feeling. This line “There’s no art to be had in pencil–uninterrupted brush strokes instead,” I think, carries fear in your poem. Your invitation, “I want you to color this sketch with your full imagination,” is encouraging. I paint the reeds with a snipped off piece of Coke can tied to a stick dipped in hot asphalt-the result always feels rough not beautiful-like words in poems that you cannot take back once you let go.
you cannot take back once you let go…
Beautiful rhythm in many of these lines, especially the first. I love how conscious you are of meter & music.
Thank you sir
I love how the poem moves from the sculpting process to the more general process of creation.
thank you Gaby