19 June 2008

today and today

painting is going well. summer is here. zacchi is sleeping at my feet.

this morning I started two new portraits, then rigged up a temporary display shelf so I could contemplate unfinished paintings during siesta time.

there is a hush over the valley. it is too hot to move. the tiny bathroom window lets in a huge amount of heat. yesterday i ordered the double-glazing for the studio-kitchen.

even the birds have stopped singing.

i honour the down-time by ignoring the capital letters obligatory at the beginning of each sentence. it is hot. who cares?

after i have written this, thinking of archy and mehitabel, i will rest a little.

i love the sound of this hush. it is so eloquent. zacchi stirs, heaves a sigh.

now you must excuse me, a pile of pillows and some contemplating calls me.

but just in case you are curious, here is my favourite called the coming of archy by don marquis.


once again apologies for not knowing the protocol for copyright for something published in 1927 but freely available on the world wide web...


expression is the need of my soul
i was once a vers libre bard
but i died and my soul went into the body of a cockroach
it has given me a new outlook upon life
i see things from the under side now
thank you for the apple peelings in the wastepaper basket
but your paste is getting so stale i cant eat it
there is a cat here called mehitabel i wish you would have
removed she nearly ate me the other night why dont she
catch rats that is what she is supposed to be fore
there is a rat here she should get without delay

most of these rats here are just rats
but this rat is like me he has a human soul in him
he used to be a poet himself
night after night i have written poetry for you
on your typewriter
and this big brute of a rat who used to be a poet
comes out of his hole when it is done
and reads it and sniffs at it
he is jealous of my poetry
he used to make fun of it when we were both human
he was a punk poet himself
and after he has read it he sneers
and then he eats it

i wish you would have mehitabel kill that rat
or get a cat that is onto her job
and i will write you a series of poems showing how things look
to a cockroach
that rats name is freddy
the next time freddy dies i hope he wont be a rat
but something smaller i hope i will be a rat
in the next transmigration and freddy a cockroach
i will teach him to sneer at my poetry then

dont you ever eat any sandwiches in your office
i haven't had a crumb of bread for i dont know how long
or a piece of ham or anything but apple parings
and paste and leave a piece of paper in your machine
every night you can call me archy

by don marquis


tania said...

This one's my favourite, from the same book, hope the line breaks come out right:

the stuff of literature

thank your friends for me for
all their good advice about how to
work your typewriter but what i have
always claimed is that manners and methods
are no great matter compared
with thoughts in poetry you can't hide
gems of thought so they wont flash
on the world on the other hand if you press
agent poor stuff that wont make it live
my ego will express itself in spite of
all mechanical obstacles having something
to say is the thing being sincere
counts for more than forms of expression thanks
for the doughnuts

Kay said...

you once gave it to me, blown up to A3 and laminated... I must have it still, in NZ somewhere.

If I find it I will bring it here...

tania said...

Ooops no you don't! I snaffled it cos it was in better condition than the one I'd made for myself. I thought you‘d left it cos you didn't want it!

I'll make you a new one and you can come and collect it. You can even choose matte or shiny laminate :-) Remind me!

Kay said...

I don't know! Kids these days...

it used to be my clothes you snaffled...

ok, come on over and you can snaffle them again, and we can go to the beach cos it's just too darned hot here now!