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Author's Note: This poem is an ekphrasis poem, which is basically a poem that describes a photo or painting or sculpture or any sort of work of art, and I wrote it about how Francis Bacon created this painting (Editor's Note: painting is below and its name of the painting is, surprisingly, "Painting"). He said in an interview that the painting "came to me as an accident" and that he was actually trying to "make a bird alighting on a field," but "suddenly the line that I had drawn suggested something totally different . . . It was like one continuous accident mounting on top of another." My idea for the structure of the poem was to reflect Bacon's unconscious brush strokes and how he blindly created a work of art true to his form.
Fragile oil, traipsing slow,
projects a puzzled cadence
Echoing
a discordant beauty
In exhilarated
despair.
In the absence of my soul,
he spread my suffering
Leaving only
a vapored verse
Evaporating
in thirsty air.
Unconscious strokes crept to me
like cancer in my sleep,
An accident
in mo(u)rning,
My hollow spirit
stained,
Suspended
. . . laid to rest on canvas
| | Tags: absoluteink, moira amiss, francis bacon |
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