He painted a photograph
Hands staining the oil-steak streets-
Marbled with vespertine moon ribbons
Eyes glossing the mealy crunch of street crumble-
Sugared with volitant dregs
Impasto clouds curtsying into sky
Encaustic smog repoussoiring the scene...
I spent a year in his night new york.
Author notes
Robert Doisneau is fantastic.
I've just realized that "street" is used twice within the poem. Generally, this would irk me in terms of cadence. However, it does not seem conspicuously out of place here. Any opinions?
Comments
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mmmmmmm.... oil-steak.
love it. really do.
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Why thank you David. Your lovely opinion is much appreciated.
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