handcuffed in fact
As if I had been strictly ordered not to meddle in that local war my time within Baroque was not in line with outward objects conversations or activities.
Don’t look.
Don’t let yourself be seen.
yet there were instances when I was sure that I was being followed. After a sudden departure from the room in which a famous series of enormous allegories covered the walls I slyly disappeared into Contemporary then from there I quickly slipped into a small performance space where a movie was showing to a room of empty seats.
Such interruptions to his waking life in which he found himself transported back to
hovering
dangling
did not end when he grew out of
Passing for example through the outdoor winter market he might find that he
No child
Not anymore
had been transported back into a corner of a floor to see that floating
yellowed now
the inset going brown the pearls among the tarnished bugle beads comprising one long panel of decaying
lady
You see on THE NIGHT WE MET I also met a man who asked if he could take me home.
On one of these occasions she the lady slowly exited her dim boudoir in time for him to skitter past her into where at the conclusion of a journey partway up the doorframe he was gazing half in sorrow half in rage across the dismally deteriorated room.
The grape leaves then appearing at their edges to be curling
fruit appearing to have shifted slightly
bottom of a peach gone flat
there even was a little bruising in that precious painting given to the lady by his mother on that fateful night when
In the open cutting of the pomegranate he could see among the myriad shades of red the introduction
like a wicked presence in the paint
of black. It was as if within a scene in which it previously had been impossible to read the time of day that very day had now grown dim the futures of those fruits no longer guaranteed. Composed against a background clouded as if to suggest eternity
that carefully arranged array of angles shapes all guided by the level of the table top which now appeared to lean a little on the left
The basket. Look what’s happening to the
Wait!
What time was it?
had started showing cracks the cracks increasing at the edges where the canvas met its tattered frame.
That’s how it’s creeping into there.
He meant of course the evil in the air.
To get to that first time (Night Two) when in the DRAWING ROOM the invitation came to stay the night I did not do a thing to show that I could see it coming. I just waited. Then I answered yes. That night I found a satin nightgown in the wardrobe in my bedroom. Satin robe. Pink slippers. In this bedroom moonlight softly passing through the gauzy sheers in layers white with cantaloupe I felt so good I felt real happiness I felt as though I’d slipped into a dream. I listened. I relaxed. I started out awake but as I drifted into sleep
my sleep uninterrupted on that night
I thought I felt a tongue between my legs but when I checked there wasn’t any tongue between my legs.
I closed my eyes to see a floating figure in a placid sea of pink. Translucent figure. Veins illuminated. Blood as white as snow.
The following morning
MORNINGAFTER ONE
DAY THREE
I woke up with a feeling of foreboding. Although fleeting there were aspects of this feeling that were substantiated as my gaze began to settle on that room traditional in its style of furnishings walls papered in a floral pattern corals pinks a space just occupied not dominated by the simply carved four poster canopied antique bed. On top of satin sheets there was a coverlet of white awash in roses pink with tangerine a springtime pattern made to look alive by lime green satin thread embroidered into leaves appearing to have nestled permanently among the blooms. The carpeting a deeper shade of pink there were two nightstands each draped in a doily underneath a crystal lamp. A whisper thin ornately shaded floor lamp arched above a little country English chair rose velvet with a fuchsia cushion unexpected as an accent reminiscent though of matching objects in the sitting room as well as bathroom hand towels.
Drowsy.
Anxious.
Little bit uncertain about the protocol for such a morning I remained in bed where drifting into thoughts producing frosty images that melted at the corners I recalled the piece of land that we had stood upon where once a tiny house had been. As if in pictures blending into one another I saw trails of footprints made on floors that weren’t there anymore. Above those trails I spied a row of body sized increasing in their size impressions left in beds except the beds were gone. Surrounding all of this were scatterings on top of scatterings of tiny imprints made from fingers up down missing windows missing from the walls that were not there.
I sat in back. Before those rows of empty seats there loomed upon the movie screen a shoeless little pigtailed girl in overalls whose face was never shown. She seemed to be the costar to the dark sophisticated man who wore a hat. That man was constantly together with the girl though both were strangers to each other. She apparently unsupervised he was alone as well inside an art museum where they both were looking at the drawings all too delicate to be discernable by us. In fact they shared that movie screen exclusively until a dark haired woman in dark glasses entered catalyzing the expansion of the picture to include a male security guard. Along with the idea of filming a movie meant to be projected in a gallery inside an art museum
inside an art museum
seeing as the essential action in the movie issued from the man’s encounter with the woman
they
the other characters
both came across as far too obviously contrived. What the moviemaker did seem good at knowing though was how to cause the sexuality of the woman the desire of the man the blandness of the security guard to wipe their hands off
as it were
upon the little girl.
Awakened
standing up
she has her bearings now inside this pale blue room that seems to have been situated on the line dividing one world from another. In that other world there is a pretty little stream bright flowers springtime leaves. She sees the stream as clearly as if she were looking at it through an open window. On the glassy surface of the water myriad luminous beings
tiny little things
go gliding by.
Then suddenly the candle out the room’s gone dark.
I sometimes feel as though I’ve known you since before we even met she told me. We were on a blanket by the river looking toward the complicated NORTH FACADE. He’d gone to get the picnic baskets. Do you feel that way?
(Day Six)
Within the angle of the L comprising the NORTH FAÇADE an elaborate sequence of roofs ran down the hill
She saidYou may not know this but I
spilling toward the river in three long descending divisions.
She looked back as if to check on where he was.
She closed her eyes took in a breath then said I seize all chances when your mind is open to insert my thoughts straight into you. She said So I must beg you be a little patient with me please because I cannot always be as quick as you would like.