This lovely, almost imagiste, poem certainly offers much to a visual artist
Harriet, packed right down.
>
> Thin Veil
>
>A thin veil
>an envelope
>a bird flying on a rooftop
>evening.
>Where sun is not
>and moon emerging
>the heart beating,
>the story begins.
>It is in the head
>in vapors.
>There is a walk, and talk.
>The eyes are closed.
>There is breathing,
>and stillness.
>On the pillow
>she in white sleeps.
>
>----- Harriet Zinnes
It sets me wondering about what kind of writing best serves visual art, and
how. It will be very interesting to see what someone makes of this, how
close, how far...
Doug
Douglas Barbour
Department of English
University of Alberta
Edmonton Alberta Canada T6G 2E5
(h) [780] 436 3320 (b) [780] 492 0521
http://www.ualberta.ca/~dbarbour/dbhome.htm
'The Critic"
I cannot possibly think of you
other than you are: the assassin
of my orchards. You lurk there
in the shadows, meting out
conversation like Eve's first
confusion between penises and
snakes. Oh be droll, be jolly
and be temperate! Do not
frighten me more than you
have to! I must live forever.
Frank O'Hara
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