13 May 2011


Normandy 5/13

Claude Monet is walking in his garden

Blue is dominant with a hint of red

It is morning, flowers think about blooming

On the beaches of Normandy

Waves come upon the shore

Foam cold, sapphire and deep with longing

Nothing on this earth is content to be itself

Monet wanted to bend nature and bottle light

Until it broke across a canvas

And the oceans want to be gazelles, men

Men want to be fish, birds, stars

We froth with excitement, blow them all to hell

It’s a sort of comeuppance

If we can’t have it, no one will

They’d do the same if they had invented the means

Monet stands on his bridge

He looks out over his manicure, breath in, out

He counts poplars, makes sure they number the same

As yesterday

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