Tuesday, August 31, 2010

la verte perpétuelle

 
pitted stones sweat blooming mossss...
sleek marble salted by crystal tearsss...
the buried bones split hairs lossss...
a speckled twig falls on your fearsss... 

"et vous qui dormez! autre granit et vieilles roses
qui passez et disparaissez dans un bain pur
sans faiblesse comme sans distance
hautes hautes terres étranger azur
pesez sur elle qui n'est plus
dans le temps ni sein ni spasmes ni larmes
qui s'est retournée sous la terre
vers l'autre plus cendreux soleil."*

[*verse from "La Femme et la Terre" by Pierre-Jean JOUVE, 1887-1976]

Saturday, August 28, 2010

l'éminence verte


a jagged thread of sun stitches together furtive shadows below...
the voluminous gowns above enlace in a symmetrical row...
a light wind sways their regal skirts, and l'air varié intersperses... 
softly the courtyard of the palais royal, still undulating eminences...

Thursday, August 19, 2010

l'implication verte

in the seafoam greenness of this fugitive corner...
in the darkened carapace of this mantled courtyard...
agile immortals are engaged in mythic play...
boldly implicit in the undercurrent of simulacre...

Monday, August 16, 2010

l'involucre vert

 a whirling man-boy...breaking out of his pod...shaded by notre dame...
paris is his husk...
"this plant would like to grow and yet be embryo; increase, and yet escape the doom of taking shape; be vaguely vast, and climb to the tip end of time with all of space to fill, like boundless Igdrasil that has the stars for fruit."*

[*3rd verse from "Seed Leaves" by Richard WILBUR, 1921-]

Monday, August 9, 2010

l'embrouillement vert

even in death, she is close...
married to his brother, but after his own heart...
painter to painter, talent on talent...
M pour M...
she brushes aside, then lightly upon...
her green eyes darkened in repose,
her white dress splayed,
a wilting camellia on a velvet web... 

[a summer's day at the intimate Cimetière de Passy]

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

l'endurcissement vert

a stone veil...
a verdigris frost...
a slotted regard...
a faraway heart...
quelque chose demeure un peu sur la montagne...*

[*line from "Beauté des femmes, leur faiblesse..."  by Paul VERLAINE, 1844-96]