What is it then between us?
- Walt Whitman
And so we engage in distractions
in deadpan reticence
in loose-elbow canvases with splashy palettes
boarding the airship
waving bye-bye to the good, the bad, the ugly
to those near and far
to those costumed for the haunting regularity
hands held high
the music a light summer rain.
The curiosity welcomed, celebrated,
upholding the meaning
preserving what is done
and what will (or could) be done.
The windiness of cities
of passersby with eyes locked
or heads bent
that this could be otherwise
scripted in good company
without indulgence
without insouciance
or concern or worry
with nothing lost in translation then or now.
The entire palette sprung
all colors
some identified by the stenciled name of another
applied with the transport of an ode to joy.
In the final scene an ice storm dialogues
limbs bend, break, fall
viewed as spectacular
the curtains still'd
the music muted
the congregation assembling
to review the packet of algorithms
signed, sealed, delivered
by a company of like-minds
who now (we can only hope) will see it through
settling on the iced leaves of grass.
Perhaps we should email one another
touch base
make sure the network is up
and only then resurface
duly recognized and accepted
without qualm, without condition.
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| Dariusz Klimczak |