alice going into the picture he once said in an interview
how the installation should be, not only seem or into a series of rooms
and paintings, sad, little wistful stories in bloom
you with your own memories finding solace, the visitor
to the exhibit, happily confused, made to feel at home
otherwise neither
here nor there, suddenly, here where an apartment astronaut
lodges no longer here to pay for repairs to the ceiling
wont the neighbors be upset at the man who never threw
anything away
or there when floating upwards with Emilia into a barely sketched in sky
a lightness beyond Light itself known to you suddenly, as your own
like the palms of your own hands
green varnish on the baseboards an angel or only the wings framed
as evidence of Heaven where we trust you are now
admitted by Michelangelo or Van Gogh or all the people whose
names I don't know.
thank you for leaving so many things behind otherwise we wouldn't have known
would not have found at the great museums this expanded universe
the invisible shining, almost revealed floor to staircase going to the clouds attached
of art and story and wild illumination
surely the angels will inhabit now.
where else would they go?
mary angela douglas 28 may 2023
No comments:
Post a Comment