Art
Isn’t Dead—It’s Still Dying
“like
Dali’s melting clocks”
--Steffen Horstmann
How you plan to kill time
means
nothing to me
as
your troops invade my body
Outside
the
city falls to its knees
I
hold it crying in my arms
as
I fall in love with strangers
Come
my friend
let
us crucify the hour—
minute-hands
nailed to the cross--
our
faces slowly turning
like
Dali’s melting clocks
to
and from the horizon
Please
let us hurry! We must go!
There
is no arguing
the
yes and no of night and day
But
first
let
me murder the piano
one
by one and in every key—
lifting
and lowering each tone
into
its ebony grave its ivory tower—
raising
even the dead
in
living colour
as
only an Impressionist can
who
draws pictures and no conclusions—
my
blood spilling onto
the
human canvas
stretched
beyond all measure—
lamp-shades
of skin and ash
(How
beautiful the light
that
carries the weight
of
its own unbearable absence)
See
how the undying wave to you now
from
the unframed corners of my mouth
(that
other gas oven)
in
muted screams of crimson and orange
bewildered
yellow muffled brown acoustic blue—
How
sudden inspiration Dada!!! Mama!!!“
can
explode
like
shooting stars or automatic fire
into the tone-deaf illusion of pitch-black Nothingness
Come
let
me recreate
the
fluorescence of your smile
let
me reinvent myself
as
I on display
walk
these random streets
freshly
garbed in widows weeds
Paris
1942
Even
now as I speak
I am
painting my screams green
I am
dying my hair red
(as
only the colour blind can)
I am
changing my name to Violette
and
I am returning to that other country
I
a Russian da-da refugee
as
cumbersome as obscure as open
as any
French Door by Marcel Duchamp—
my
windowpanes—translucent fragile cities of light—
my
memory polished beyond recognition
my
nose pressed to your shattered glass—
Paris
my mirror
O
Paris
How
often I have wandered your truth—
looking
for me in search of you
And
where is God when I need Her now
to
find my way back in the dark?
Please
let us hurry! Let’s go home!
Let
us marry the bed
Let
us marry the mirror
Let
us marry this moment—-
my
fingers kneeling before yours in prayer
folding
the blessings of faceless angels
into
the corners of my mouth
Only
this
There is no other
moment
Only
this
crossing
the threshold of
Dream
passing
through our veil of tears
crossing
myself
as
you enter me
through
the
window of my reflection
transcendent
decoded
Holy
Yessssss
Shhhhhhhhh
La Vie
en Rouge
Brave
heart depraved heart
City
of rose-tinted glass
Heart
at my unframed window
Heart
with your thumb up my ass
Oh
Rouge!!
how
softly you weep
onto
cobblestone—
the
freshly cut grass
Pulsing
Portal eternal immortal
imposing
muscle scalpel in hand--
your
open-head surgeries
your
mouths your wounds too many to count
Heart
ready to beat the band
Beating!
Beating! Beating! heart
with
your Billy clubs your gases
In-Seine
River
of blood and tears
Red
heart dead heart
in
your bright yellow vest
how
you cried out in vein all these years
Sainted
heart not for the faint-of- heart
no
longer the pale pink lie
I’ll
live to see red yet another day
Cross
my heart and hope to die
Our
Lady
Flames
scorch your walls your
wood beamed ceilings
Gargoyles
lick the smoke filled air
Your
ancient timbers once echoed in forests
Now
turn to ash but you’re still there
Centuries
have not obscured your face
Nor
revolutions your holy brow
How
you’ve looked at the world through rose-coloured glass
How saints pass through you even now
How
many have entered your sacred space
Like
the mirrored moon from behind her veil
Bright
flickering stars crown your thorny head
They
would raise your roof but to no avail
As
April springs into fragrant flower
Memory
stands transfixed transformed
We
are all but hunchbacks in the Bell tower
We
were all meant to be reborn
Surreal
Architect of Untold Meaning
Unfolding
petals on
the tremulous Seine
How
you inspire mute
words on fire
The
passion of love the
burst of flame
Living
Canvas City
of Light
Your
candles lit from within our souls
The
intimate silence of your unspoken prayer
It
is for us for whom the bell tolls
I
hear them now
at
my tear-stained window
Ave
Maria Ave Maria
Just
beyond the River’s bend
Hymns
in the night
Angels
of Light
Glimpses
of iconic vision
Our
heart is melting
The
world is turning
Paris
is burning
Antonia Alexandra Klimenko was first introduced on the BBC and to the literary world by the legendary James Meary Tambimuttu of Poetry London–-publisher of T.S. Eliot, Dylan Thomas, Henry Miller and Bob Dylan, to name a few. After his death, it was his friend, the late great Kathleen Raine, who took an interest in her writing and encouraged her to publish.
A nominee for the Pushcart Prize, The Best of the Net, and a former San Francisco Poetry Slam Champion, she is widely published. Her work has appeared in (among others) XXI Century World Literature (which she represents France) and Maintenant : Journal of Contemporary Dada Writing and Art archived at the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C. and New York’s Museum of Modern Art.
She is the recipient of two grants: one from Poets in Need, of which Michael (100 Thousand Poets for Change) Rothenberg is a co-founder; the second—the 2018 Generosity Award bestowed on her by Kathleen Spivack and Joseph Murray for her outstanding service to international writers through SpokenWord Paris where she is Writer/ Poet in Residence.
Her collected poems On the Way to Invisible is forthcoming in 2023.
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