Turpentine Chimaera

The First Image on Entering the Gallery

THE aspect I thought to partake of

Casual quiet alone and the

Wide grimace to be inane

Aud'bly smirk sardonic scorn.

Still the choice I have between

Both, one of which receives a

Grimmer grin when mordant the wit

Which leaves but one: return.

The Second Image

A web of vivid movements

Holds me in its grasp, though

Profound its depths which lured me in

To bounce my eyes back

Into the gallery.

The First Image

A rigid stare peeps from behind

The hollow sockets deep

Forcing mine to delve into their

Dazzling darkness

Torn is the parlous shroud

This apparition wears

Who breathes anew resuming voice

With the view of finding ears.

The Third Image

Thus the mind sharp with

Feverish chimaera, each

Sense engaged and

Merged into a blend

(The cries that found themselves

Shiv'ring o'er my spine

Stir such taste of turpentine that

Space is clear to resound),

Myself I find

Drawn into the landscape

To be surveyed and dwelt upon.

Half of the sun submerged

For gleams and shades alike

To ridge the erstwhile gloss and stretch

The slopes up to the pike,

My wand'rings reel dispersed

Across the canvas wide

Which exceeds by sharp relief

Its listless lifelessness:

The same chiaroscuro through

Which the expanse immures me

Obtrudes the path that leads beyond the

Horizon's span.

The Fourth Image

-Out through the next... No

Wind to carry the sheets, has vexed the

Placid sea, breathes tacit silence...

The surface so conspicuously smooth;

I must be the pivot of these ripples,

As Aeolus I press the winds from their recess

And hoist the canvas as the sailor.

Waves of one wave, first

Plodding and jostling, break step,

Unravelled, steal a march

To dislodge me hence from this watery grave;

The dark waters I ride

Revolt, swill out the dead seaweed, like

Shoals through meshes 'scaped

The sea, unshackled, bellows: Liberty!

Still inordinate, the sway

Remains for me to bridle and vanquish

Until more sharply delineated...

Likewise, the primordial artist

Attributes his work to the dissolution

Of such a tremulous framework:

The Order of the Dragon.

The Second Image

Out of the gallery.

Yet one last glimpse, surmised right so:

My web I'll weave accordingly,

A tangled clasp, a hauling net,

Though, extricated, the spirits flee

And strings shall be pulled again.