Monday, June 30, 2014








Thursday, June 26, 2014

Painting by Paige Preston Byrne (Washington, DC)


                                                                  stone bird

                                                                  stone bird sits
                                                                  in the middle of time
                                                                  inquisitive little fellow
                                                                  his tiny head looking over something
                                                                  perhaps he feels the wind, or hears
                                                                  the striking waves on the shore
                                                                  he can't fly
                                                                  but lives beyond
                                                                  the brushstrokes of art




Please note: the following was translated from a Catalan dictionary app.  The correct Catalan
is soon to come, kindly translated by folks at Can Serrat for the Open Studio



                                                                  pedra ocell

                                                                  pedra ocell se senti
                                                                  en el medi de temps
                                                                  homenet inquisitiu
                                                                  el cap tony buscant per alunga cosa
                                                                  potser se sent el vent,  o escolta
                                                                  les onades pegant a la riba
                                                                  ell no pot volar
                                                                  sino que viu mes enlla de
                                                                  les pinzellades d'art
 

Painting by Paige Preston Byrne (Can Serrat)
Frill-necked Lizard

he's been knocking his knees
at the ant-hill ball
collects his hat and coat
with a flick of tongue
how smart he looks
in his blue suede shoes,
diamontees & pleats


it's wonderful to think
that he's all leather
feisty
not yet skinned





LIangardaix Volant-Nu

ha estat colpejant els genolls
en el ball formiguer
recull el seu barret i l'abric
amb un moviment de la llengua
que sembla intel.ligent
amb les seves sabates blaves de camussa,
diamants i plecs.

es meravellos pensar
que es tot de cuir
lluitador
encara no esqueixat









 


Silverfish



Not as lucky as a Las Vegas dollar                                    
Painting by Paige Preston Byrne (Can Serrat)

nor as silver,
but if you look inside paneled rooms
there may be several silverfish
touring endlessly in the house
of a miser or in one of those 19th century
cottages where the rain soaks North Somerset,
bookshelves covered in trench coats.

You know that silverfish chew into glue,
plaster, paint, photos, sugar, coffee,
hair, carpet, clothing, dandruff,
book bindings and paper (and that's
a lot to get through in a week!)

Imagine one slippery silverfish
in the musty library of a French poet
travelling through paragraphs of Reverdy,
John Donne, Simone De Beauvoir or Sartre,
his hunger moving toward simile and speech,
words curling into little white ropes
and lifting from the page,
one letter at a time.





Peixets de plata

No tant afortunat com un dòlar de Las Vegas
ni tant plateixat
pero si mires dins de les sales amb panells
pot haver diversos peixets de plata
voltant sense parar a casa
d’un avar o en una casa del segle XIX
en la pluja que amara North Somerset,
prestatgeries cobertes de gavardines.

Saps que els peixets de plata masteguen cola,
guix, pintura, fotos, sucre, café,
pel, catifes, roba, caspa,
enquadernacions i paper (i és a dir,
molta feina per una setmana!)

Imaginat un peixet de plata relliscós
a la biblioteca humida d’un poeta francès
viatjant a través dels paràgrafs de Reverdy,
John Donne, Simone de Beauvoir i Sartre,
la seva fam es mou cap al símil i la parla,
les paraules es cargolen en petites cordes blanques
i les lletres es desenganxen de la pàgina una a una.





















































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Evangelyne
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of Arc & Shadow

of Arc & Shadow
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