a storeroom of experience and a mind out of time
to (brett)
Remember
when we tried to find happiness in a syringe; that Chinaman with nimble
fingers dancing about opium tipped needles,
those Asian places the smoky streets while you painted in blue-fire-hues
with your ginger skin and we drank women wine and "It's Alright Ma"
(I'm Only Bleeding)
There was Nell's sugarcane face and blue-sky-breasts somewhere over the MLC
and that little uni-student who had a yoni like an apricot in a battlefield.
That day we met the sage in mission clothes and asked him (he wouldn't reply
without brown muscat we purchased) said Art was Ayres Rock's shadow on the
south China sea.
Imagine
We bought tickets to a Mongolian temple to watch the carp
and learn.
Reflections
Loved to watch you paint to the tune pulsing in my veins, tinker of the
Art world.
Remember
we were broke. had my final realisation when you conjured $190,000 with
your brush
in three weeks.
You painted Rees & Bacon on ordered canvas to the rhyme of prevailing aesthetics;
a case of mistaken identity I think.
Nostalgia
Got sick of watching carp relish birdseed - the Abbot insisted that we stay;
proximity was the reason.
Benediction
sat alone at the pond when a hummingbird dived from the water into the air
tapped me on the forehead with its beautiful beak
three times
saidthe only value anything has
is the value given it then refused to answer further questions regarding Art.
Took the gander out of the oven - people were coming to dinner without appetites,
I'll save you a piece.
