swedeheart

walked along the antipoetic wall...

it is easy to love fragments that have been on the way a long time...

feel the smell of truth...

the poem which is completely possible...*

*selected cryptic lines from 'Hommages' by Tomas TRANSTROMER (translated from the swedish by Robin Fulton)

swede boy

the tyroboy looks me in the eye
with raised fists and taunting mouth...
the tornout words do not tell me anything - I am guessing they are not gentle...
I pass them by, I turn back - he is still challenging me...
the fledgling alpha round with this freshface minimenace  - the futilefight is on...

on skeppsholmen...

they march no more down these halls - the young swedes of a naval order...
outside, the dark trees shield the statues low and the tall ships...
they see a light on - the light that casts shadowlinks in a tight room...
a hollow box, a fulfilled sack - the season's ending in a corner...
the solstice is rounding up, the days lengthening -
and so begins the music again...

[at the Hotel Skeppsholmen, Stockholm, Sweden]

swede abstraction

the detrital conflation of peeling paint and sprayed symbols, of pasted notices and torn images, of flaking glue and dried spit - presents an accumulative reading as complex as an archaeological dig, a vertical congregation of visual strife as dissonant as a Twombly passage...

["Turner, Monet, Twombly: Later Paintings" at the Moderna Museet, Stockholm  from October 8 to January 15, 2012]