dead drunk dublin and other imaginal spaces
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Waning crescent moon rose earlier in the week just before the sun, slender as a mathematical sign. Then, next morning disappeared into the invisibility of the new. Affectionate words, what were they? Flesh seems timeless on her. Never lose sight of the body in the context of language, & you will never lose sight of language. My friend & I stood before the Matisse fairly dumbfounded at his ability to throw so many colors past internal censors of objection & critique. In The Three-O’clock Sitting the model stands in the middle of the room without being the center of the painting. Turquoise & white abstract stripes are centered, & our eyes circle round the room in joy. Look out the window at infinity. Model draped in towel, frontally, shown naked in the mirror from behind at an angle against all laws of perspective. Little dab of brown paint purring on the floor puns heated sexual aspects of harmony in the piece without the slightest hint of vulgarity.



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