Festive

 

Festive 65 x 50 cm - Acrylic on paper c/o Karin Goeppert

JUDGEMENTS

The elephant gets out of bed, wonders

where he put his trunk. No doubt a cartoon I saw

when six or seven. Road Runner, what’s up, Doc?

Popeye’s pipe a can opener too: that ilk. It’s art,

it’s all art. Nonetheless I must tell you what I think,

mustn’t I? Tolstoy and I both loved Natasha.

Trying to imagine a double scoop of her lips

at Ginnochio’s Ice-Cream Palace, I can only visualize one hand,

surprisingly large and tipped with red lacquer, holding a sugar cone.

In your judgement, what the hell’s wrong with me?

I would observe Madame Bovary from a safe distance,  

judging and forgiving her, but not being unkind the way

Flaubert was on his beautiful-if-fucked-up mission

of “Madame Bovary c´est moi.” I’d like to say, Get over yourself, Madame.

It looks

like the kind of brown paper in which butchers used to wrap 

large bloody steaks. My wife’s painting on it. She reluctantly

asks me to give her notes. I pause, appear reverent. After all I’ve

just entered a chapel of art: chants, incense, blood-stained sacraments.