Alan Patrick Traynor
OLD MAN ON A BLACK ROCK
In the burning easel of man
How a yellow tree hangs
From the heart of Autumn
A radiant transfiguration in the
Virgin's face
To gaze at God
Past all pain(t)
One quiet finger reaching
To the thunderous creation of man
Beached on the hard bone streets
Of Rome
Destitute mooring chains that
Lead her feet to the naked herringbone floor
The horror of doves colliding
On the tortured ceiling
Possessed by the Danube's blue rich
Violent palaestra
Of muscular screeching walls
A crustacean of claws
Bright bones clashing
A silver kiss
On the walls of the Sistine Chapel
A church organ bolted to eternity
An old man on a black rock
Harpooning hearts
The clay coloured creatures of Degas
Waltzing from his hand's delight
Violently exploding
And closing
The fulminated atoms of an octopus
Opening
In the pink flesh of paludal waters
Towards you
Swell her pneumatic white eyes
In the chiming ecliptic rafters
Of his hands
Ink pouring
Collapsing like a cloak
Into a beating heart
A cello unraveled in all its pieces
An opening up of a delicate otherworldly
Hand
Beneath the eidolon overhanging cliffs of another World
On the scaffolding of her bones
The pecking order of patina
A palladium of men's eyes
Drowning in the sodomy of paint
In the burning easel of man
How the flame tree hangs
From the heart
Of a Ballerina
In the primordial waves and displosive light
Of man's cold fingerprint
In the Ecclesiastical candlelight
Where Turner once washed cold
Off the cliffs of dover
Rejected
In light
In the borrowed gale
I left you
.
.
by Alan Patrick Traynor
.
© Sept 5th
2022
.
.
Dutch Boats in a Gale ('The Bridgewater Sea Piece') by: Joseph Mallord William Turner
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