Imaginative Art

[mfwilkie]

First revision

The foot massage is mechanical
likewise melodies of love the neighbors hear.
And one might think our subject's eyes are closed
wanting the morning's artifice replaced
with desperate pleas to cease his tickling.
(But) what you cannot see
beneath the stillness of the scene,
is the length of her internal scars—
death churned a settled sense of self
till it emerged with a different rhyme
of Spring: that a good life is still possible
after a good life goes still.

(Rimbaud's thoughts on ancient poets
rest on her lap.)



First draft


The foot massage is mechanical,
likewise the melodies of love
the neighbors hear, and one might
think her eyes are closed remembering
the way he would have overcome the
air's artificial hymns with desperate pleas
to stop his tickling if he were in the moment,
but that would be the wrong interpretation
of this still life-scene since the object
of study is contemplating Spring becoming
Summer in a different life, a life delivered
by the hands of Death—

the excitement of Rimbaud's thoughts
on ancient life flowering in her mind.

[Sherry Thrasher]

Such a sad, melancholy, lonely tone to this my Magpie. I had to read the first to put the two together to get the picture (at least I assume I have it right). I think this is very well done and I especially like the in the moment of it. The poetry book on her lap is quite visual. I love your grasp on poetry. I always think "What would Maggie do with this"?

Thanks for your work on Bella Monica. I'm still tinkering with it and want to incorporate some of your ideas, especially those in the ending. I appreciate your help.

Sher

[LynnDoiron]

copy ... "rests" rather than "rest"

mucho like-o

lynn-o

[alfredo]

Superb! A few words painting everlasting pictures.
Particularly like three contrasting themes ecstasy, scar/sadness and the ever-present near-at-hand poetry book (poetry within poetry?).

Though I've looked at other work, of late, only this forced a response. Cool!

[LynnDoiron]

I more than just mucho like-o this. It haunts. I love it.

c.b.b.