by phillipw | Jan 8, 2020 | FU, OL
Olimpio Fusco Unconscious of his Needs … An artist’s model does what he is told. Stand there. Sit under that. Now spread that thigh. He doesn’t have to know why he must fold His hips beside a knife or gun. His eye Must look away, to left, or up. Perhaps He...
by phillipw | Jan 8, 2020 | VE
Old Palazzi are Resurrected Old palaces are resurrected from Within, although, perhaps, their faces are Allowed to keep their wrinkled look, like scar Of age, or sin, and that of Christendom. The looted goods among the marble walls, Mosaic glitter made from greed are...
by phillipw | Jan 8, 2020 | Uncategorized, VE
La serenissima A city is presided over by The moon in half its glory, and the scars And blemishes revealed beneath bright Mars Along the Grand Canal are quite as high In number as the craters up above— Serene half disc, the surfaces below, A twinning of...
by phillipw | Jan 8, 2020 | VE
Flying to Venice The vision of far Venice rises high Inside the mind, as Alps rise high with snow, Rock, clouds, and glacier whiteness spread below. The heart has opened up its mystic eye. It pierces through the distance and the mist Prophetically, more...
by phillipw | Jan 8, 2020 | TR
Veils When trees begin to pale with leaves or bloom, The first effect seems like a stretched gauze haar, A tailored fitting from the hidden loom Which spins this morning mist (distinct and far Removed from deaths). It corresponds with dawn. Then...
by phillipw | Jan 8, 2020 | Ta
Madame de la Châtre, Ally of the Duc d’Orleans “Her virtue wasn’t of the sort that men Found depressing.” In the oil portrait by Vigée Le Brun no hint of Magdalene The sinner smears the oils. No winking, sly Insinuation that madame was like The bishop of Autun,...
by phillipw | Jan 8, 2020 | DE, MO
Little Tips of Putrefaction on Some Petals Three leaves fall. The oak seems undiminished In grandeur. Four peonies are dying Back in yellow. Brown acorns have finished Their suicides for life. A hawk, flying His shiver on the sky, is unconcerned With symbol,...
by phillipw | Jan 8, 2020 | BR, KE, ST
So Keats was Wrong So Keats was wrong: a star is not so firm Or steadfast as a lover’s sonnet yearns For it to be. In fact, his urgent sperm Was probably more loyal and his tears For Fanny Brawne more strident than two bright, Twin stars. Besides, some stars...
