June 18th, 2012

Aug 12

Francis Bacon  was  still in my head  so I bought his paintings back to Word Threads today, and added to the  mix  the paintings  of  summer  envisioned  by the great Hudson River School painter,  SANFORD R. GIFFORD

 

 

 

Mary C wrote:

the table word clip said,  ON  MY  OWN. . . . .

PAST  GIFFORD

AND THE CATSKILLS  OF MY BODY

MEMORY,  ETCHED  SCARS   THICKENED

AS    PATCHED   LIKE   THE   FLESH  PINK   OF  MY  ARM….

WHITE    STITCHED   TO   BLURRY

FLESH   SKIN  OF   SKIN ,  MY   ARM ,   MY  SHOULDER   BLADE  TO  BREAST,  SOFT  GIVING,

SEARING   EMBOLDED

HARDNESS  OF  ROCK   ECLIPSED  MOUNTAIN

SHADOWED POCKETS    FOR  FOOT

FOR  HAND    GRAB   A    HOLD

PULL   ME      PUSH  ME     UP

AS  MY   ASCENT  IN JOY   ENFUSED,

ENLIVENS     ALL   THAT  IS   TOUCHED   BY  BRUSH   BY  STOKE

by   COLOUR    ALL   THAT  IS   EXCLAIMED

SHEARED,    UTTER    BEAUTY   TO  THE   EAR    OF

GOD………………………………………………..REVERBIATE

the  rIPPLING    ECHOES    OF    WIND     OF   ANIMAL,   OF

SCORCHING  SUN

VISTAS

TREES     ALONE,    TREES

FORESTED TO   BLUE

EXPANSE…..

BLISTER SPREADING

CLOUDS     INTO    LIMESTONE   CAVES

FOSTERED

FRESHNESS

DROP   TRINKLE

DROPS  OF   LAKE   SMOOTH

WATER

BUBBLED OXYGEN  OF  FISH

SPEAK   THE  AQUATIC   IN    THE

SKY,      MISTAKE,     RE-DRESSED

BY    GIFFORD’S   MEMORY   OF   MY   SCHOOL

THE  RIVER   LAIDEN  STURGEON,   FULL  GROWN   TO  PCB  DEATH

A  FLOAT  BUT  NOT  TILL  AFTER   MATH  OF  SPAWNED   EGGS

THE  TOMORROW,  THE  SLEEPY  HOLLOW,   THE  SPREADING  WATERS  OF   THE  FUTURE’S

SAMENESS,  SCHOOLED  BY  THE  JENNIFER  REEVES  OF  THE  NOW   THE

HUDSON    VALLEY   PAINTERS     IN    NATURED   MAJESTY    OF   BLACK  CROW