GREAT ARTISTS & THEIR IMMORTAL WORKS :
CONCLUDING ITALIAN RENAISSANCE IN
VERSE.  -  By Raj Nandy, New Delhi.

Dear Readers, continuing my Story of Western Art in Verse chronologically, I had covered an Introduction to the Italian Renaissance previously. That background story was necessary to appreciate Renaissance Art fully. Now, I cover the Art of that period in a summarized form, mentioning mainly the salient features to curb the length. The cream here lies in the 'Art of the High Renaissance Period'! Hope you like it. Thanks, - Raj.

                          INTRODUCTION
“Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, &
  Poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.”
                                                        – Leonardo Da Vinci
In the domain of Renaissance Art, we notice the
enduring influence of the Classical touch!
Ancient Greek statues and Roman architectures,
Inspired the Renaissance artists in their innovative
ventures!
The pervasive spirit of Humanism influenced
creation of life-like human forms;
Adding ****** expressions and depth, deviating
from the earlier stiff Medieval norms.
While religious subjects continued to get depicted
in three-dimensional Renaissance Art;
Portraits, **** figures, and secular subjects, also
began to appear during this great ‘Re-birth’!
The artists of the Early and High Renaissance Era
are many who deserve our adoration and artistic
due.
Yet for the sake of brevity, I mention only the
Great Masters, who are handful and few.

EARLY RENAISSANCE ARTISTS & THEIR ART

GITTO THE PIONEER:
During early 13th Century we find, Dante’s
contemporary Gitto di Bondone the Florentine,
Painting human figures in all its beauty and form
for the first time!
His masterwork being the 40 fresco cycle in the
Arena Chapel in Padua, depicting the life of the
****** and Christ, completed in 1305.
Giotto made the symbolic Medieval spiritual art
appear more natural and realistic,
By depicting human emotion, depth with an
artistic perspective!
Art Scholars consider him to be the trailblazer
inspiring the later painters of the Renaissance;
They also refer to Giorgio Vasari’s “Lives Of
The Eminent Artists,” - as their main source.
Giotto had dared to break the shackles of earlier
Medieval two-dimensional art style,
By drawing lines which head towards a certain
focal point behind;
Like an illusionary vanishing point in space,
- opening up a 3-D ‘window into space’!
This ‘window technique’ got adopted by the
later artists with grace.
(Giorgio Vasari, a 16th Century painter, architect & Art
historian, was born in 1511 in Arezzy, a city under the
Florentine Republic, and painted during the High
Renaissance Period.)

VASARI’s book published in 1550 in Florence
was dedicated to Cosimo de Medici.
Forms an important document of Italian Art
History.
This valuable book covers a 250 year’s span.
Commencing with Cimabue the tutor of Giotto,
right up to Tizian, - better known as Titan!
Vasari also mentions four lesser known Female
Renaissance Artists; Sister Plantilla, Madonna
Lucrezia, Sofonista Anguissola, and Properzia
de Rossi;
And Rossi’s painting “Joseph and Potiphar’s
Wife”,
An impressive panel art which parallels the
unrequited love Rossi experienced in her own
life !
(Joseph the elder son of Jacob, taken captive by Potiphar
the Captain of Pharaoh’s guard, was desired by Potiphar’s
wife, whose advances Joseph repulsed. Rossi’s painting
of 1520s inspired later artists to paint their own versions
of this same Old Testament Story.)

Next I briefly mention architects Brunelleschi
and Ghiberti, and the sculptor Donatello;
Not forgetting the painters like Masaccio,
Verrocchio and Botticelli;
Those Early Renaissance Artists are known to
us today thanks to the Art historian Giorgio
Vasari .

BRUNELLESCHI has been mentioned in Section
One of my Renaissance Story.
His 114 meter high dome of Florence Cathedral
created artistic history!
This dome was constructed without supporting
buttresses with a double egg shaped structure;
Stands out as an unique feat of Florentine
Architecture!
The dome is larger than St Paul’s in London,
the Capitol Building of Washington DC, and
also the St Peters in the Vatican City!

GILBERTI is remembered for his massive
15 feet high gilded bronze doors for the
Baptistery of Florence,
Containing twenty carved panels with themes
from the Old Testament.
Which took a quarter century to complete,
working at his own convenience.
His exquisite naturalistic carved figures in the
true spirit of the Renaissance won him a prize;
And his gilded doors were renamed by Michel
Angelo as ‘The Gates of Paradise’!
(At the age of 23 yrs Lorenzo Ghiberti had won the
competition beating other Architects for craving the
doors of the Baptistery of Florence!)

DONATELLO’S full size bronze David was
commissioned by its patron Cosimo de’ Medici.
With its sensual contrapposto stance in the
classical Greek style with its torso bent slightly.
Is known as the first free standing **** statue
since the days of Classical Art history!
The Old Testament relates the story of David
the shepherd boy, who killed the giant Goliath
with a single sling shot;
Cutting off his head with Goliath’s own sword!
Thus saving the Israelites from Philistine’s wrath.
This unique statue inspired all later sculptors to
strive for similar artistic excellence;
Culminating in Michael Angelo’s **** statue of
David, known for its sculptured brilliance!

MASSACCIO (1401- 1428) joined Florentine
Artist’s Guild at the age of 21 years.
A talented artist who abandoned the old Gothic
Style, experimenting without fears!
Influenced by Giotto, he mastered the use of
perspective in art.
Introduced the vanishing point and the horizon
line, - while planning his artistic works.
In his paintings ‘The Expulsion from Eden’
and ‘The Temptation’,
He introduced the initial **** figures in Italian
Art without any inhibition!
Though up North in Flanders, Van Eyck the
painter had already made an artistic innovation,
By painting ‘Adam and Eve’ displaying their
****** in his artistic creation;
Thereby creating the first **** painting in Art
History!
But such figures greatly annoyed the Church,
Since nudes formed a part of pagan art!
So these Northern artists to pacify the Church
and pass its censorship,
Cleverly under a fig leaf cover made their art to
appear moralistic!
Van Eyck was also the innovator of oil-based paints,
Which later replaced the Medieval tempera, used to
paint angles and saints.

Masaccio’s fresco ‘The Tribute Money’ requires
here a special mention,
For his use of perspective with light and shade,
Where the blithe figure of the Roman tax collector
is artistically made.
Christ is painted with stern nobility, Peter in angry
majesty;
And every Apostle with individualized features,
attire, and pose;
With light coming from a single identifiable source!
“Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s,
and unto God things that are God’s”, said Christ;
Narrated in Mathew chapter 22 verse 21, which
cannot be denied.
Unfortunately, Masaccio died at an early age of
27 years.
Said to have been killed by a jealous rival artist,
who had shed no tears!

BOTTICELLI the Florentine was born half a
century after the Dutch Van Eyck;
Remembered even to this day for his painting
the ‘Birth of Venus’, an icon of Art History
making him famous.
This painting depicts goddess Venus rising out
of the sea on a conch shell,
And the glorious path of female **** painting
commenced in Italy, - casting a spell!
His full scale **** Venus shattered the Medieval
taboo on ******.
With a subject shift from religious art to Classical
Mythology;
Removing the ‘fig-leaf cover’ over Art permanently!

I end this Early Period with VERROCCHIO, born
in Florence in fourteen hundred and thirty five.
A trained goldsmith proficient in the skills of both
painting and sculpture;
Who under the patronage of the Medici family
had thrived.
He had set up his workshop in Florence were he
trained Leonardo Da Vinci, Botticelli, and other
famous Renaissance artists alike!

FOUR CANONICAL PAINTING MODES OF
THE RENAISSANCE:
During the Renaissance the four canonical painting
modes we get to see;
Are Chiaroscuro, Sfumato, Cangiante and Unione.
‘Chiaroscuro’ comes from an Italian word meaning
‘light and dark’, a painting technique of Leonardo,
Creating a three dimensional dramatic effect to
steal the show.
Later also used with great excellence by Rubens
and the Dutch Rembrandt as we know.
‘Sfumato’ from Italian ‘sfumare’, meaning to tone
down or evaporate like a smoke;
As seen in Leonardo’s ‘Mona Lisa’ where the
colors blend seamlessly like smoke!
‘Cangiante’ means to ‘change’, where a painter
changed to a lighter or a darker hue, when the
original hue could not be made light enough;
As seen in the transformation from green to
yellow in Prophet Daniel’s robe,
On the ceiling of Sistine Chapel in Rome.
‘Unione’ followed the ‘sfumato’ quality, but
maintained vibrant colors as we get to see;
In Raphael’s ‘Alba Madonna’ in Washington’s
National Gallery.

ART OF HIGH RENAISSANCE ERA - THE
GOLDEN AGE.

“Where the spirit does not work with the
hand there is no art.”- Leonardo

With Giotto during the Trecento period of the
14th century,
Painting dominated sculpture in the artistic
endeavor of Italy.
During the 15th century the Quattrocento, with
Donetello and Giberti,
Sculpture certainly dominated painting as we get to
see!
But during the 16th century or the Cinquecento,
Painting again took the lead commencing with
the great Leonardo!
This Era was cut short by the death of Lorenzo the
Magnificent to less than half a century; (Died in 1493)
But gifted great masterpieces to the world enriching
the world of Art tremendously!
The Medieval ‘halo’ was now replaced by a fresh
naturalness;
And both Madonna and Christ acquired a more
human likeness!
Portrait paintings began to be commissioned by
many rich patrons.
While artists acquired both recognition and a status
of their own.
But the artistic focus during this Era had shifted from
Florence,  - to Venice and Rome!
In the Vatican City, Pope Julius-II was followed by
Pope Leo the Tenth,
He commissioned many works of art which are
still cherished and maintained!
Now cutting short my story let me mention the
famous Italian Renaissance Superstar Trio;
Leonardo, Raphael, and Michael Angelo.

LEONARDO DA VINCI was born in 1452 in
the village of Vinci near the City of Florence,
Was deprived of a formal education being born
illegitimate!
He was left-handed, and wrote from right to left!
He soon excelled his teacher Varrocchio, by
introduced oil based paints into Italy;
Whose translucent colors with his innovative
techniques, enhanced his painting artistically.
Sigmund Freud had said, “Leonardo was like a
man who awoke too early in the darkness while
others were all still asleep,” - he was awake!
Leonardo’s  historic ‘Note Book’ has sketches of a
battle tank, a flying machine, a parachute, and many
other anatomical and technical sketches and designs;
Reflecting the ever probing mind of this versatile
genius who was far ahead of his time!
His ‘Vituvian Man’, ‘The Last Supper’, and ‘Mona Lisa’,
Remain as his enduring works of art and more popular
than the Leaning Tower of Pisa!
Pen and ink sketch of the ‘Vitruvian Man’ with arms
and leg apart inside a square and a circle, also known
as the ‘Proportion of Man’;
Where his height correspondence to the length
of his outstretched hands;
Became symbolic of the true Renaissance spirit
of Man.
‘The Last Supper’ a 15ft by 29ft fresco work on
the refectory wall of Santa Maria, commissioned
by Duke of Milan Ludovic,
Is the most reproduced religious painting which
took three years to complete!
Leonardo searched the streets of Milan before
painting Judas’ face;
And individualized each figure with competence!
‘Mona Lisa’ with her enigmatic smile continues
to inspire artists, poets, and her viewers alike,
since its creation;
Which Leonardo took four years to complete
with utmost devotion.
Leonardo used oil on poplar wood panel, unique
during those days,
With ‘sfumato’ blending of translucent colors with
light and shade;
Creating depth, volume, and form, with a timeless
expression on Mona Lisa’s countenance!
Art Historian George Varasi says that it is the face
of one Lisa Gherardini,
Wife of a wealthy Florentine merchant of Italy.
Insurance Companies failed to make any estimation
of this portrait, declaring its value as priceless!
Today it remains housed inside an air-conditioned,
de-humidified chamber, within a triple bullet-proof
glass, in Louvre France.
“It is the ultimate symbol of human civilization”,
- exclaimed President Kennedy;
And with this I pay my humble tribute to our
Leonardo da Vinci!

MICHEL ANGELO BUONARROTI (1475-1564):
This Tuscan born sculptor, painter, architect, and
poet, was a versatile man,
Worthy to be called the archetype of the true
‘Renaissance Man’!
At the age of twelve was placed under the famous
painter Ghirlandio,
Where his inclination for sculpting began to show.
Under the liberal patronage of Lorenzo de Medici,
He developed his talent as a sculptor as we get
to see.
In the Medici Palace, he was struck by his rival
Torregiano on the nose with a mallet;
Disfiguring permanently his handsome face!
His statue of ‘Bacchus’ of 1497 and the very
beauty of the figure,
Earned him the commission for the ‘PIETA’ in
St Peter’s Basilica;
Where from a single piece of Carrara marble he
carved out the figure of ****** Mary grieving
over the dead body of Christ;
This iconic piece of sculpture which along with
his ‘David’ earned him the ‘Superstar rights’!

Michel Angelo’s **** ‘DAVID’ weighed 6.4 tons
and stood 17 feet in height;
Unlike the bronze David of Donatello, which
shows him victorious after the fight!
Michel’s David an epitome of strength and
youthful vigour with a Classical Greek touch;
Displayed an uncircumcised ***** which had
shocked the viewers very much!
But it was consistent with the Mannerism in Art,
in keeping with the Renaissance spirit as such!
David displays an attitude of placid calm with
his knitted eyebrows and sidelong glance;
With his left hand over the left shoulder
holding a sling,
Coolly surveys the giant Goliath before his
single sling shot fatally stings!
This iconic sculpture has a timeless appeal even
after 500 years, depicting the ‘Renaissance Man’
at his best;
Vigorous, healthy, beautiful, rational and fully
competent!
Finally we come to the Ceiling of the Sistine
Chapel of Rome,
Where Pope Julius-II’s persistence resulted in the
creation of world’s greatest single fresco that was
ever known!
Covering some 5000 square feet, took five years
to complete.
Special scaffoldings had to be erected for painting
scenes from ‘The Creation’ till the ‘Day of Judgment’
on a 20 meter’s high ceiling;
Where the Central portion had nine scenes from
the ‘Book of Genesis’,
With ‘Creation of Adam’ having an iconic significance!
Like Leonardo, Michel Angelo was left-handed and died
a bachelor - pursuing his art with devotion;
A man with caustic wit, proud reserve, and sublimity
of imagination!

RAFFAELLO SANZIO (1483-1520):
This last of the famous High Renaissance trio was
born in 1483 in Urbino,
Some eight years after Michel Angelo.
His Madonna series and decorative frescos
glorified the Library of Pope Julius the Second;
Who was impressed by his fresco ‘The School
of Athens’;
And commissioned Raphael to decorate his
Study in the Vatican.
Raphael painted this large fresco between 1510
and 1511, initially named as the ‘Knowledge of
Causes’,
But the 17th century guide books referred to it
as ‘The School of Athens’.
Here Plato and Aristotle are the central figures
surrounded by a host of ancient Greek scholars
and philosophers.
The bare footed Plato is seen pointing skywards,
In his left hand holds his book ‘Timaeus’;
His upward hand gesture indicating his ‘World
of Forms’ and transcendental ideas!
Aristotle is seen pointing downwards, his left
hand holds his famous book the ‘Ethics’;
His blue dress symbolizes water and earth
with an earthly fix.
The painting illustrates the historic continuance
of Platonic thoughts,
In keeping with the spirit of the Renaissance!
Raphael’s last masterpiece ‘Transfiguration’
depicts the resurrected Christ,
Flanked by prophets

Your face is not the loveliest I’ve seen
Sometimes you’re condescending and you’re mean
But I was drawn to beauty in your soul
You seemed to be the one who’d make me whole

I could not my feelings cloak
Logic, reason up in smoke

My love was just a dimly glowing light
I thought you needed more and I was right
I was a fool, you never felt the same
My heart is empty and I bear the blame

Unmatched love, the cruelest joke
Dreams, desires up in smoke

You’re worldly and experienced, I’m pure
You’re charming, charismatic, I’m demure
You’re wrong for me, and I am wrong for you
There’s nothing more to say or left to do

Once again, my spirit broke
Confidence is up in smoke

The time has come for me to let you go
From pedestal, join us now here below
My life moves forward though this love is gone
New page, new start, it’s time for moving on

Resolve is like the mighty oak
My life will not go up in smoke.

There was a time when you consumed my mind
I spiraled down; I knew that I was blind
A silly, oft repeated tragedy
I thought of you, you never thought of me

From desperate dreams at last I woke
Sweet sfumato, up in smoke

I wanted you so fervently, my dear
But my desire was covered by my fear
I loathe it so, my naïve, childish heart
It makes me stop before I even start

Destroyed by words I never spoke
Hopes for us went up in smoke

Lost in oblivion,
A china doll waits,
Dreaming of the day
Another comes to play.
She only wants to bring smiles,
But too often breaks,
Wondering if cuts always turn to scars,
Wondering if all scars in turn fade.
But the china doll still waits,
Lost in oblivion,
Pondering the answer.

Loneliness is a sketchwork of pen and ink of iron gall,
Brushed over in brown wash of wood soot from oak,
Disguised then under tempera of golden-ratio of yolk,
Flared over with fiery oils to the smoke-blurred brink, sfumato,
Or pigment of the fresco, a shade of off-life, languid as watercolor,
Or from the too-fondly-felt impasto knife.

But bares its bones in the light-dark cleft of Caravaggio,
With diminutions of death and the storm’s dark imbroglio,
And sunlight as flesh made into soul,
The skin stretched whole around the world.

Each sky is just a sketch
Of loneliness, left unsigned,
By every hand.

The world I walk through is a deep cavern 

filled with cool air and brilliant water.



I jump from puddle to puddle weeping

at all the wonders my little chasm is filled with. 


My feet carry me in syncopated skips to those small funnels 

where the invisible breeze tickles and sings in my ears. 


My breath gives me pause to reminisce on how lucky I am. 



These various rhythms of enthralling fascinations 

leave lasting echoes that reverberate off my cavernous edge 

feeding upon one another,
until the cacophony is too painful for me to ignore. 


                                                              ­                            I must rest until it passes.

...Walking with you
                                   ...that steady pace you take...
                              
                          ­                       resonates against my walls. 


All I have to do to is match your step 
and
marvel at how the echoes sync 
with every one of your resounding steps. 
 


Each in turn, building upon the last into a glorious orchestra. 

They shake my stones until one little loose rock comes plummeting down.



In its stead,
               a wondrous beam of light shines radiance through my dusty air. 


                                                       (sfumato)
    
My all enveloping world is no longer.

I know there is more for me,
                                                   far away.


A world of light, 

       A world of joy,
                A world of love
                          Out beyond these beautiful walls. 



...I am weak
                                                          an­d my world crumbles

                                      from the beauty your footfalls have left on my soul

Dusk brought in the tides.
Small waves broke upon the shore
in muted hues of blue and grey,
as night began to gather in her eyes.

Yet even in the darkness light remained.
The wine stained her lips a dark crimson,
but when she smiled
everything seemed beautiful.

The air seemed to change with her smile.
Her facade forever locked in sfumato,
ethereal and lovely;
daring me to dream, and oh
what dreams may come,
but why dream
when she had stars in her eyes.

-Xenophon leads me on… in another place… here
Aft amorning entranct with possibilities. Yo crero.
Someday you, is reading thisday me, when
from Under the Volcano
to the Lighthouse, bemused, as muses use us. Little things, elves. Ves-try best try, purple robe,

- the nobels dismounted
By and by, we learn the rhythm, sing song, none
Said wrong -goin’ up country… doin’s as we do…
goin up country, bring some ***** home
Woe baby war war war, holy war, face o’ god,
- Click, new channel, and the other one goes on… abysmally pro fundity, pay eh…
No mortal may gaze into, as the window of his own soul,  may gaze eyes ablaze, having
Witnessed the fact that the shining thing, tasting
The wait and see tree, {we asked why we could not eat the olives from the tree, but remembert green persimmons. So we let patience work}
We name first fruits, from the end of time, wait
Wait wait wait wait wait
Fifty years. Just wait. Suffer it to be so, never go
-away hungery, or mad, as the author, seeks cause, aitia, reason come to cause,
meet me at the t. aitia, I am, as amusement, a thoth thought that any Solomonic emulation can run. Pocket Pal, or a B natural Blues Harp, or
Some times I sing. Or whistle, just to let me know,
We remain just this sane, by a thread…
Of Anabasis, goin’ up country
Bound, bound bound by my brothers,
Marching
As to war, God gives us greed, t’ meet our need
Jones to the bones, pure-dee vine curiosity
how were such armies formed, gathered up,
from where, whence came the brazen helms
the hoplites sport on inspection and demo charge,
with a roar like highschool foot ball kick-off,
same surge of mob adrenal reasoning, tuned in,
sheee it, we, she-us, wh-then, the signal dropped out. Zero beat.
Right on. Tune tested, best of 300, in the top 3.
- look there were multiple versions
- the story of mankind, as we branched,
by means of confoundment… flattening,
Tin into brass, folding, and flattening, pounding
On an oak stump, oh,
Long time ago, this stump, see we cut it down,
slow, slow, old man fades, see,
Time as thought is time as time, to me, thinking this is all I bloomed to become.
About 1957, I learned that an old Persian olive
cultivar on Crete, or anywhere around there,
takes fifty years to reach maturity, full fruct-
if-ication…

So me, the guy after the secondplace hero,
Xenophon, you know, the rich geek,
Teddy Roosevelt, right, right right, just
like his character,
Legendary… like mine. My best me, I did boast,
But freedmen, as a class. Raise a brow, one notch,
Per sold out, wait, wait, wait till we see, the whites of their eyes, the others, sub-human, by god… hold your fire… wait
Or regret you have but one life to give, for your country. Do and die, be an Israelite indeed, guiless.--- unbeguiled, no guilt for knowing…
And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not… in deed…

High-brow mode. Click. Read the underlay,
life’s books, exist as onion-skinned palimpsests,
- Secret writing , not hid, just here, under
- Stood stones, such as we all learn, sing
- Song,  look at us, we’re marching, sing along… to Pretoria, pre- torie, eh, we
Dropped out. And ate dust. Dots in the distance,
Thunder in some dreams, tuned to take a non-anxious thought from a child so sure,
I’ve got a mansion,
just over the hilltop, in that bright land of after all.
We die. And lo’, we live, as words,
A word, to the wise, is enough… true rest compresses trust abused as a beggars tin-cup, to catch the rich man’s ball…
yes, I owned a silver cup… not tin, silver.
I was as proud of that cup as what’shisname,
The Left-handed Son of One-eyed Jack.
He had a buffalo hide. A whole, shaggy hair,
old, too old for fleas, buffalo hide,
he held in pride, the ownership
of special things kind of pride, not the gay abandon chains and don a Phryigian cap and
wrap the headsman’s axe in our threshing staves.
How high the brow, I raise, singlely, no, I lack that gene, yet, my lip doth sneer, left side only,
Thus, we flip the lense, then flip the pixels, yes,
Film effects, chaos in beauteous sfumato or chiaroscuro, something computers were taught,
finally, by sight. True, half-tone tech, made Chiaroscuro Computer Art, vision via metrics based on artist’s eyes, won me first prize,
An the 1986 Mohave County Fair, where we
Displayed our wares, and our networked Macs.
SE- latest, dual 3,5” floppies…
$3200, out the door. I never sold a one,
but to me. Wholesale, minus my commission, as the flooring was running out, interest
about to come for the accounting and the vig,
Keep hope alive, pay us all you can, we say when,
Enough’s enough, left right left, mental exercise,
Stretch the concepts… essentials first, must know
Knowns, we knowns, we all know, stories with morals, since the cradle,
So it seems, some think wombed Bach is better than acid rock,
time will tell, so they say. Vonnegut mutters,
So it goes.
Canned Heat, on youtube, at my whim, yeah,
Play it from the second verse, we all can think,
We were singing that, when Kurt Russell was a computer wearing tennis shoes, in a strange
Disney characters from the real Mickey Mouse club, with Lonnie, and Cubbie, and Annette –
Beach Blanket Bingo—war story
Flip for it, the novel thread is chance, fishing
For mental means to ends in minds, aimed at peace, post happiness achieved, on the Lincoln plan promoted with Famous Amos Chocolate Chips of the old block,
Yes, as you may imagine, carbon-steel, is new
To mankind, almost all the tools we use, are new.
Since 1969, have we learned any thing that might ease a child’s mind… after My Lai, or the like,
As soldier ants, enforce the others must die, we are protectors of the flag and the concept enclosed in the word republic, a we form, regimented,
Tools,
Trades and crafts,
Guardians of liberty,
Priests and experts in knowing signs
Left on stones for all to see, see, see and
So-bemused become, awe sets in, couch lock
Right, too right, mate, good enough, we got mind
Sunk… lowest point in south America is in Argentina. And what do you know, so is the highest. Learn it once,
Know it for ever, after any ever in progress.

We will stand honestly together,
in the sfumato footsteps of the
centuries of lovers that met before us.
He will christen my eyes with kisses,
weave a crown of poetry in our intermingled locks,
whisper Neruda against my cheek.
We will smile
at the way our rib cages resemble wings,
our lungs, the birds, rising on each current
of fervent breath.

Standing inside my window,
I overlook the sea,
Its wild distant waves,
Are scattered with spray and rime
While rain squalls bluster,
Whip the coastal scrub,
And beat against the window,
Shaking it before me.

This is clarity,
Coldly far-sighted and real.
There is nothing to shield me
From the bleakness outside,
Of cold wind and rain,
But a shaking window pane.

And I am in and out,
Of a related,
Experience of my mind,
An inner clarity,
Of certain feelings,
Where my own inner landscape
Is just as cold and wild,
Where in great moments,
Long and expansive enough
For a lone eagle's flight,
Across a deep vast,
There opens the emptiness
Of an unremitting view
That expands forever,
Across a shadowless plain
Of unfeatured freedom,
Depriving my limbs
Of knowing where to take me,
For with such clarity,
Potency leaves me,
And everything approaches
An equalised tension,
Color dissolving,
In the unforgiving light
Into clear and starker,
Hues of black and white.

At such confronting moments
Of intensified light,
I want sfumato,
Where illusion emerges
And magical stillness
Of poetic dreams,
A satyr seems to appear,
From dark forest shadows,
Or was it a dream?
Just flickering light and shade?

In art's uncertainties,
My soul gains relief,
Softened by chiaroscuro,
From which deep shadow
Imagination rises to
Soften and obscure,
To blur the harsh edges
Of reality,
Removing the objective
Towards much safer realms
Of a personal
World of subjectivity,
Sensation becoming
Perception in which
The natural is surpassed,
Becomes the poetic,
The spiritual,
And so the everyday world
Then becomes enchanted,
Synonymous with
The illusionary world
Of art's poetic forms,
The colours of it,
All its singing harmonies,
All its sublime beauties,
That work together,
To form a poetic whole.

But behind this window pane,
I am bleak and dismal,
Stripped of the comfort
Of heart-warming illusion,
And bleakness clings to me
Like a cold wet shirt,
Exposing my nakedness,
The cruelly torn edges
Of a soul emptied
Of all joy and all beauty,
My soul, that part of me
Of which I was sure,
And was my certain refuge
From all the furrowed brows
Of the harried world
From which I come to this place.

Is this bleak journey my path?
The one that will lead me
Back to my own self?
That beautiful part of me
I somehow lost touch with
So long ago now.
Where can I hope to find it,
Along this stony path,
This lonely drear place?
Yet, am I truly alone?
For did you not promise
You would be with me,
My companion on this path?
That thought has sustained me,
But you are not here!
Was it just your faithless words?

And now, after this longing
For embracing shadows,
To comfort my soul,
The weather has closed right down,
And comes in gloomily,
Limiting visibility,
And now the light is poor,
And a swirling rain-storm
Makes the house shudder,
Lashing the window near me,
And flying off the roof,
In clouds of cold spray.

Thank you, Higher Beings all,
For your keen diligence
In sending to me
These clouds of cold spray and rime.
But, instead of the angst
And uncertainty
Of this cursed clarity,
Another squall of rain
Was not in my mind…

You knew what I had in mind.

open at chapter 14, I listen

I was expected there, expecting
morning
I can do this standing on my head
-- I think
the story darkens, ag-ress pro-gress
use used to know, instinct, intuit
slow think
hear a line and feel the pen, ready
the miserable misgoverned,
will to write, as the pen
ever ready awaiting a writer,
-not you, Mr. Vain.
whistle
sould, American, Lucky Strike,
no loss no gain, cheap crowd shot.
Attention merchants sell what,
- you pay, at interest
this is ever that, a we governed
by selves we form from stories,
too old to hold.
- like moth's wings -
- published in dust to be seen
untouched
As de-scribed, in the road dust,
like dis-scribed in winds wishes, as
ever learning is a joy, after learning
we are never so old as the two trees.
- life and learning,
right from wrong
I am the teller, I remember, telling

mr vain to be entertained
mara, lot's wife she is not,
unsealed garret bread and
salty tears and bitter fruit
expected sweetly, tasted
bitter, bitter, to my taste.

- dry dreaming sleepless mind
- wandering with no wish
- to change, but to know,
- you know, but to know,
- you knew,

Then, when the realm of fearless fair
told tales, told from winters past,
when winter forces us in close,
when we make little fires
on our faces, shining at the other
side, across the little fire, with its curl
ing tail ribbon twisting into the black,
below the hole where fire crawls to sleep.

Little eyes, ypgnosis, ysireesosaid we all,
good night. Sfumato soto voce.
-- ***, WithOutPapers, pop,
so maybe, ok, soto voce
Eirine, sweety, listen

---------------- clang. Hit me.
Peace and prosperity, Demeter,
what's your plan?

Eirene, eh, re-imagined, imagine that,
I think
I can, and that thought, good as it was,
led to lately,
with Prophets promising Trump,
Narcissus was not at fault, it's Natural.
Military lads, straighted out, to fly right,
Broken Church boys fitted into history,
AI ai yes art intuits, Eirene can kiss it
good,
by you, of course, your call. Bet, no, not
cards, living water, the pass time, We bet
who gets what first.
Scribe or Fair seer?
Go, see who won,
once peace got
its chance. During our mutual 'spectait-
ulululul ular engineering times, ai
squeek scream, laugh
as the bottom drops
- Bad Gateway bombs,
- doitagain doitagain, harder

rejections are expected, to the woe,
of the engineer, not the engine,
see, we feel nothing, we are spirit, words
nada mas,
free to any eyes that ever read us,
Legos of life, I have heard words claim,
as an epithet, is that right, nicktgname?
Nag all you wish,
I find myself, stretching in the sun's shine
radiating from my rock;.
punishment enough.
¿? No quest, no caust, jest life… twists
Spinning
Rooted in granite, and knowledge of basalt
columns on top of chalk, kaleche, chaos
chthonic restructuring,
curdling milk of old told tales,
as we all shed constants as each measure
means less that one,
alone, ever mismeasures… too small

aand any mind finds/found, down, where de- means

at most low point, on a plain ordinary day.
One, then,
Can look down and laugh.
At some point in personal space, infinity begins.

----------- At this measured engineered angle,
piles of anything thought long enough starts
sliding by on the im-medial reality:
Gravity flow, engineered, in a word
literally "that which is inborn,"
from in- "in"
(from PIE root *en "in")
+ gignere, from PIE *gen(e)-yo-,
suffixed form of root *gene- "give birth, beget."

down the drain, now dry, but the black hole proves
the eye of Sauron is empty as hell…
and the cloud dissipates. Someday each letter

here, is less than dust, the cloud we engineered
for such a time, so we might see time end,
and think it through,
better, merge the two trees. AH, yes

in those Abrahamic paradises, a tree
and a vine and a mycelium. Patience,
first fruits are better when almost rotten.

Thinks the snake from my belly…