Monthly Archives: July 2018

(detail- darkened) The Vision of Saint John - by El Greco (Doménikos Theotokópoulos) 87.5 × 76 inch Oil on canvas
poetry

Take a Walk

I take the silent step.
Keep my eyes up,
not looking to the broken ground.

I try to take a walk.
I try to keep from talk.
I try to still the clock.

You know the feeling.
You know that feeling,
when Picasso’s time 1
is spread wide and thick,
when the wind never seems
to go your way.

You try to catch your breath;
and it comes in fits and starts,
and it comes in flames and sparks,
and it comes in warring larks.

And then it fades.

You know the feeling.
You know that feeling,
when El Greco’s stretch, 2
seems real and right;
when proportions’ light
seems off, and not just by a mite,
and your limbs, they scream and bite.

They scream and bite,
and you’re stuck,
forever stuck on the bridge
with Munch, 3
and the screaming never stops.
You know that feeling.
You know the feeling.

© rl busséll 2018

The Vision of Saint John - by El Greco (Doménikos Theotokópoulos) 87.5 × 76 inch Oil on canvas

The Vision of Saint John – by El Greco (Doménikos Theotokópoulos) 87.5 × 76 inch oil on canvas (1608–1614 New York, Metropolitan Museum)

  1. Picasso’s “Blue Period” 1901-1904 http://www.artic.edu/collections/conservation/revealing-picasso-conservation-project/pablo-picasso-and-blue-period↩
  2. Domenikos Theotokopoulos (1541-1614) “El Greco” known for his elongated figures he is believed to be a precursor to Expressionism and Cubism. http://www.elgreco.net↩
  3. Edvard Munch (1863-1944) Norwegian Expressionist his most famous painting is titled “The Scream” (1893) Upon his death he bequeathed all his works in his possession to the City of Olso. Munch Museum was built to house them in 1963.https://www.theartstory.org/artist-munch-edvard-artworks.htm↩
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poetry

The Best of My Heart

When the sun is done etching her lines upon my soul
and the sand is finished falling,
remember that you are the best part of my heart.

And all the ups and downs,
all the pressings into shapes untold,
all the works spilt from our misshapen molds,
all the words tumbling and shaping our souls
have not broken us upon our shoals.

Thus you’ve stood with me;
through the torrents of our times,
through the sickness of my sins,
through the fury of my fires.

Thus you’ve stood with me;
beyond our reason,
beyond the promise of Jordan,
beyond milk and honey’s flow,
beyond the silence of the night,
beyond the whispering cringes of the salty bite.

You’ve clasped your hand in mine;
knit your fingers into my flesh;
called your name by mine.
And in the passing of my time
never will I know a better me
than you.

© rl busséll 2018

For she who is a better me.

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