Friday, August 03, 2012

A Note On My Artistic Process

They tell me Henry James
surprised at the funeral of a neighbor child
explained his presence: “Where emotion is,
there am I.” I hate you, Mr Henry Fucking James.

No. And even if a wind gathers
and sand scours up my legs
the buildings yaw backward the ticking
pauses the tinnitus changes note and
the patter of the congas
trails off –

if my head grown long and heavy
slews back panning street and sky
and the lozenge of day-fire
streaks across the film –

even then I will not tour
other people's lives or even mine.
I live here. Put your fingers
in someone else's soup,
Mr Henry Fucking James.


marly youmans said...

Alas, poor Henry. Of course, that story cannot be verified... and yet it does seem true to something we feel about him and his relation to life and emotion.

Dale said...

Yes. Of course, this all has much to do with me and little to do with Henry James :-) But there is something a little creepy about someone who keeps sidling around the dance floor but will never dance!

marly said...

It's all about The Mole.