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JV Beaupre Jan 2022
negative space shaping the conversation--
dancing, flitting from safe to safer,
like stepping stones across an angry creek,
we just try to get by.
JV Beaupre Jan 2022
It's on the February calendar,
quite near National Bacon Day.
I understand Pay It Forward,
but I don't understand why
I should inconvenience myself.
There are whole industries for that.
I could name them all,
but what a drag,
so Inconvenience Yourself Day,
Hell NO!
Inconvenience Yourself Day: February 23
National Bacon Day: February 26
JV Beaupre Jan 2022
A two-headed coin on edge
heads or heads --
it matters, it matters not

Balance, a dynamic to and fro,
it's a thing to itself--
a delightful tension-- or not
JV Beaupre Jan 2022
I'll eat heathy and lose weight.
I'll shop for a livable diet,
Low carbs, nil sugar, no fat.
I will do better this year.
I'll draw more, paint more, eat more.
I'll surely do better now that I'm older and wiser.
No more German chocolate cake, fruit tarts,
Strawberries Romanov, pastrami on German rye,
Boullibaise, Fried Chicken, Schweinsbraten,
Ice Cream with Chocolate Sauce, Fat Burgers.
Marshmallows, Tater-tots, Twinkies, Pies
I shall do bet... Aw ***** it--
Prime rib and mashed potatoes tonight
And pancakes for breakfast!
JV Beaupre Nov 2021
Artists and models,
pimps and prostitutes,
writers and muses,
the noted and the nameless,
in stark black and white.

Under the street lamp,
A stout woman with a dangling cigarette,
her shadow trailing into the dark.
I need a warm place to stay tonight.

On the banks of the Seine,
The lamplighter, making his rounds,
creates the mystery of night

Stairs leading down the hill,
into the fog, into the night.
Gas lamps lighting the way,
for someone who is yet to come.

Lovers in a brightly lit cafe,
sharing a drink and a kiss,
a stolen moment,
oblivious to all else.

Rain and the street glistens
adorned by umbrella blossoms.
Long shadows cast by a rainy city garden.

Matisse and his models.
The Four Arts Ball,
Henry Miller, Picasso,
The Follies-Bergere,

The master himself,
eye to camera,
cigarette dangling,
snap-brim in place,
calf length overcoat on a Parisian street,
recording life as it passes by
A time machine, a graphic history,
all is there for us.

The Paris of our dreams.
Brassai was the nom d'plume of a Hungarian immigrant (Gyula Halász) who documented the seamier and avant garde side of Paris with his camera in the first half of the 20th century. His most famous collection of photographs was published as  "Paris at Night".
JV Beaupre Oct 2021
Where every thing is black and white
in technicolor;

Where no matter how absurd,
things turn out well;

A cruel place,
but not systematically so;

Where one thing is sure:
when the coyote treads air--
pedaling as fast as he can,
gravity prevails.

Beep, beep.
JV Beaupre Sep 2021
Scrappy as hell
the little black dog
stood on his hind legs
growling at the
postman.

The girl
in the red jacket
stood on the rock
because...
well, she was
ten years old.

In spite of the
little black dog
the postman
gave the girl
on the rock
a letter,
and winked.

Everyone went their own way,
and lived happily ever after,
I wish.
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