Hi Arthur,
Yes, there is a point. This is a form I think very much demands that it
reflect the subject. The mirror image of the poem goes with the dimensions
that the original painting seemed to evoke, the fact that it now only exists
in reproduction and the tragic life experience that the artist was walking
towards at the time. I agree with you that it is clever though wouldn't use
the form very often.
bw
James


>From: arthur seeley <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: Re: New sub: Self Portrait On The Road To Tarascon
>Date: Sat, 31 Aug 2002 18:48:50 +0100
>
>This is very clever, James, it seems harder than you indicated in later
>mailings.
>  I am not however happy with the form which I found distracted me as I
>kept
>checking back to see if it held true. Interesting , of course, but is there
>a purpose to it? The form I mean not the poem. Regards Arthur.
>----- Original Message -----
>From: "James Bell" <[log in to unmask]>
>To: <[log in to unmask]>
>Sent: Wednesday, August 28, 2002 8:58 AM
>Subject: New sub: Self Portrait On The Road To Tarascon
>
>
> > This is a specular poem, one stanza is a mirror image of the other. It
> > seemed appropriate for the subject. The title is from a painting by Van
>Gogh
> > that now exists only in reproduction and fascinated Francis Bacon so
>much
>he
> > did a series of six paintings in homage. Tell me what you think.
> >
> > SELF PORTRAIT ON THE ROAD TO TARASCON
> >
> > He finally burns in fire-bombed Dresden,
> > through his colours, like a cat,
> > takes on other lives - remains
> > consumed by the landscape he places himself within.
> > Not painting, he walks instead
> > motionless, outside the space our eyes view him.
> > Exact centre
> > he portrays an awkward marionette entwined
> > in adamantine vertical and horizontal grids
> > of horizon trees and road
> > with no order of perspective,
> > stuck in the never-never land of his journey with backpack
> > somewhere between dimensions two and three
> > where his shadow finds consolation
> > on the picture surface rather than the road -
> > yet to face his monsters his form tarries.
> >
> > Yet to face his monsters his form tarries
> > on the picture  surface rather than the road -
> > where his shadow finds consolation
> > somewhere between dimensions two and three
> > stuck in the never-never land of his journey with his pack
> > with no order of perspective
> > of horizon trees and road.
> > In adamantine vertical and horizontal grids
> > he portrays an awkward marionette entwined.
> > Exact centre,
> > motionless outside the space our eyes view him,
> > not painting, he walks instead
> > consumed by the landscape he placed himself within,
> > takes on other lives - remains
> > through his colours, like a cat.
> > He finally burns in fire-bombed Dresden.
> >
> >
> > bw
> > James
> >
> >
> > _________________________________________________________________
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bw
James


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