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.


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

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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
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