|
|
BORN AGAIN 1905
this morning I realised,
I was dead. Lying there
in bed, eyes wide, staring
at a stain in the distemper.
At the age of 15
Emmanuel Radnitsky is dead.
These things happen:
for the best I guess, a mercy.
I rise slowly, sit in front of the mirror,
take a piece of paper, a pencil,
start to re-draw myself.
Man Ray. Man Ray. Man Ray.
THE ARMOURY SHOW 1913
I have seen it,
I have seen it,
here.
The future.
Here in this hall,
brazen as anything
it walks down the stairs
toward me, naked.
KIKI 1921
Those eyes.
She is with a friend,
they are noisy,
swearing,
playing to the gallery.
Those eyes.
Neither wears a hat,
I think they are whores.
'It's just Kiki,
everyone knows Kiki'.
Those eyes.
'She's a model'
- I stare at her,
beautiful?
Unusual, unusually beautiful.
Those eyes
stare back.
I look away,
she laughs,
my cheeks reflect vin rouge.
Those eyes.
I take a deep breath,
stand up,
walk
toward
those eyes.
ENTR'ACTE 1924
Man and Marcel play chess,
the art world watches , breath bated.
Each piece placed
surprises the spectators.
The protagonists always
four or five moves ahead of game.
PANDORA AND THE FLYING DUTCHMAN
1940-1953
The measure of love is what one is willing to give up for it
Great ropes bind the ship
sadistically to the quayside.
I feel strangely disconnected
life, love, work, lost to me,
exiled to my native land.
The past is not another country
it's the same country it has always been.
¥
Dali & Gala hold court with the press.
Nobody notices a short Jew returning.
¥
Andrew, Yves & Marcel
have settled in New York:
home once, it doesn't fit anymore
like trying to get into
one of my childhood suits
my arms can't bend,
the collar is choking me.
¥
Paris, still occupies my dreams:
the arrogant grey uniforms,
the black spiders that crawl
the walls of the rue de Rivoli.
¥
The long flat road sizzles,
flashes quicksilver in the distance.
Telegraph poles tick past,
the speedo taps eighty.
¥
L.A. sun, palms, low houses,
a scent of Spain blows from the south.
If I close my eyes
I could be in Antibes.
¥
Juliet
she holds me in her palm
she opens my eyes
like the lid of an old box
she is blood warming an ancient spirit
she is a candle flame
viewed through red wine.
¥
On this strip of land trapped
between desert and beach,
art is a rare bloom, stunning
as the bright flowers on the cactus,
no one cares
it's left to whither and die.
¥
A commission to paint a portrait,
a Technicolor movie prop,
Ava Gardner as Pandora
holding a box.
Driving through MGM's gates
passing cowboys, gangsters,
sketching Ava between scenes.
At home Juliet stands in
holding a box.
¥
The moon is full, high over the sea,
erotic and disturbing.
I hear the gypsy singer in the tavern below.
¥
The Santa Anna sings like a siren.
The Ocean calls, Paris tugs once more,
will you give up this life for me.
¥
A sea of hands wave from the quayside
the klaxon wails,
smoke weeps from the funnels,
Juliet lights a cigarette.
We stand at the handrail watching
the Lady Liberty, the sky scrapers
sink into the horizon,
the gulls drift away.
SMOKING DEVICE 1959
assemblage, wood, plastic, glass.
This is not a pipe.
© Derek Adams
2006
|