Friday, October 7, 2011



In a world of no
there is no room for conflagration
astral core samples, the hunger to know.
In the beginning was the crenulation of the brain.
What came first, the universe or the blackhole?

A psalm story
Earth-based spirituality
Dogs speaking from the other side.
Death is an illusion, or so people say
Heaven is a place that cannot be found.
God is in the cracks, a tiny crack
that separates this world from the next.
7/8 of everything there is is invisible.
Your feet know the way to the other world.
You can't just chase the invisible.

There is only one thing we all equally possess,
and that is our loneliness.
Like fortitude, the struggle with the angels,
where would the words go, the strength of mind,
will, or choice, what we represent.
We are here for the the lesson of fate, or of passion,
what arises out of consciousness
and oppression is art. Solely art.


Ah, Picasso, Picasso,
painting is just another way of keeping up,
another way of keeping a dark circle
on the head of the horse rendered
in dappled beauty while the dancers take flight.
On the table, a frugal meal is laid out,
a white potato, an apple. Some wine
for La Celestina.

A scarf, the laying of the brush.
Oh death and las damseilles.
Azure landscapes with two figures.
Every act of creation is too strong
of an act of destruction.

Painting is a form of magic
designed as a mediator
between the strange and hostile world.

Picasso said: it took me four years
to paint a rock like Rafael
but I know how to paint something.
When I paint I feel that all art
is in the past.

Let's go dancing, it's in the cards,
she said, the city folds in on itself.
The sound of an empty room.
After she left, they were thick as thieves
at the circus.

She pulls the self-portrait over her lips,
his eyes follow her every move,
but the viper was just a pipe,
it's in the cards, she said.

A small blue door,
two women running on the beach
22 breasts adrift in the breeze.
Such blue to contend with,
such monumental flesh,
Ruben's women turned to stone.

Picasso said: Art is never chaste.
A nude in the garden, and green cats.
Portrait of Dona Maar
the hands, tuberous clusters.
Weeping women in red dresses.
Art is that which makes us realize the truth.
Said the weeping women.

A cat and a bird, an unequal war.
Art is something of the senses,
a weapon of self defense against the enemy,
the symbolization of women
in the studio in Algiers.

Picasso said: painting is stronger than me.
It makes me want what it wants.
Oh the Women at Dachau and the Minotaur,
finally the Minotaur, the bullfight,
the disembodied horse, a goat skull,
an empty bottle, the candle of war,
and of course, Guernica,
that is the dissolution of life, of art.

transcribed and revised, 10/17/14
SAN FRANCISCO, CA. April 2011—The de Young Museum announces a major exhibition by the seminal artist of the 20th century, Pablo Picasso. The exhibition Picasso: Masterpieces from the Musée National Picasso, Paris, opens on Saturday, June 11, in the Herbst Special Exhibition Galleries and runs through October 9, 2011.

No date, but it was scanned on 10/17/14, along with my Picasso notes written on all the white spaces of a program. I went on a free day, probably sponsored by Bank of the West. The exhibit closed on 10/9, and I remember a guard saying that he'd give me an extra ticket if I wanted to come back but there were only two or three more days. So I'm going to say this was written on Oct. 7.

But an attempt to wrestle this spontaneous writing into something resembling poetry was on 10/17/14, when I scanned it. I had completely forgotten that I had written it until I was culling papers. When to post? Raw notes, 2011, or revision, 2014?

I wrote it in the museum, a running commentary, an inner dialogue, interspliced with Picasso's quotes painted on the walls, as I visited each painting. Call it cubist writing, I was mimicking the styles I saw—from his Blue Period to the foundations of modern art. From the bicycle handlebar bull to the political protest of Guernica. Since I never wrote up my notes up up afterwards, it doesn't make much sense. Perhaps I will mine it later. Or not. Artifact.

The raw notes (since, I had trouble reading my writing in pencil, and it was dictated to DragonDictate, there are lost verbs and nouns, and curious word substitutions, like Volvo for vulva, etc. Truly a pastiche of drivel, a transliteration, if you will.)

Also, Picasso painting is just another way of keeping up a another way of keeping a dark circle on the head of the horse rendered dappled beauty while the dancers take flight of frugal meal white potato

a scarf dilute the laying of a brush oh death of Cassandra's and Lowe' blood cells how we as your landscapes with two figures fell over in every act of creation is to use your purse too strong of an act of destruction

painting it's a form of merger designed in the middle lane between the strange and hostile world

it took me four years to paint a rock like Rafael but I something to paint something when I paint I feel that all art is in the past and are being the something portrait of a this is Sophia orange feet is a two 1920 heart

go dancing it's in it's in the cards, the city folds in on itself, I heard on the I don't know table on the table the sound of the empty room after she left, sick as the circus life and great gorge

the self-portrait over her lips, his eyes the Viper was a pipe gas it's in the cards, 1920s the small door to women run on the beach 22 breasts adrift in the breeze such blue to contend with such monumental flash Ruben's women turn to stone art is never chased nude in the garden,

1934 Makhov and green cats and an asshole acts called complex spaceflight bathers one ball a cabana and 28 inches and the 10th 29 sculptures carrying human and mechanical sculptures the spheres

32 women in red dresses art is that which makes us realize the truth. Button portrait Donna something 39 the hands clusters the weeping woman is for mothers a cat and a bird equal war art is something of her senses the weeper in the defense against the enemy robots bowls skulls massive something go to the Volvo over this snow

the pig symbolization women and play Daja and a sore looked at the studio in Algiers painting is stronger than me it makes me what it wants women at Dachau and the Minotaur finally the Minotaur bullfight that this dissolution the goal of the school the bottle the candle the war what to see what art to sell

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