~ Through darkness...

....Hark, nay! Or
Do you merely shoot the vanishing point,

Clarified and trouble-free?

*

To the next chapter, where a reprieved
Neatly and concisely explained,
The Reading Room vanished, but lingers here somewhere ~

Places you’d frame if you could, proof of innocence,
The first clear sight of another audience ~

Between us. A rarified congregation of misfitted devotees
Crowd the museum’s west wing. The path
Mapped a worn page ~

The fires clear sight of the manuscript, leaves unpaginated,
Places you’d keep, if you could, the object’s proof
Dated ~

We couldn’t afford to lose. Misplaced for an era
Or so, this part of the story remained exactly where
We found the lost studio. Much as ~

Our conversation flooded these halls with light scripted
From every object’s cast shadow lifted
Parting a silence lifted ~

The lost wax process, this version
Cast from the original reversed beyond
The picture plane ~

Scriptural scenes illuminated the dark halls, while
Two figures from The Porch of the Confessors

Escape ~

As keys rattled, excused kept, the story closed
The previous chapter, idles before the museum’s plate-glass
Window ~

The narrator’s referential illusion and a need to confess
Refinished late afternoon’s surface,
Both relief and recess ~

Lit with hard knowledge, a painting behind
The reception desk, a miniature, really,
Where ~

Pictures galleries held prospect over the girl
Whose hand I clasped in mine, our finger’s furled ~

Artfully denied story’s premise, introduced a stage
Within each stage,
To disengage
Our sure grip on thematics unfolded from the catalogue,
An accordion zig-zag, our accordance
Accorded our unraveling way ~

Excavating the lost language, we were misused
By the illuminated page, another strategy confused ~

A checklist itinerary, our commentary on our point
Of entry, against the proof offered by denial, where

A curving well of a staircase found us skipping rope,
Holding one end, each of us, its velvet length broke ~

Read from a found volume
Before the reading room disappeared from its formal
Structure so neatly detailed in The Introduction.

Dazzled sightseers linger in high, cool tiled rooms,
Removed dust jackets from these dog-eared volumes.

The afternoon brought us together
Under the storm, where we enjoyed tea and sherry
Beside the balcony overlooking

The ticket-time admission ~

Torn intimacy, transparent effort floating through the air,
Reveals the folly of the long game of solitaire ~

Parsing the museum crowd.

*

_______
Blog, or dog? Who knows.
But if you see my lost pup, please ping me!
http://journals.aol.com/virginiaz/DreamingofLeonardo

Twittering One wrote:

The afternoon brought us together
Under the storm, where we enjoyed tea and sherry
Beside the balcony overlooking


So now do we go back out into the storm, or try to find comfort here?
Double-A

Twittering One wrote:

The afternoon brought us together
Under the storm, where we enjoyed tea and sherry
Beside the balcony overlooking


So now do we go back out into the storm, or try to find comfort here?
Double-A


A shelter from the raging storm,
But this storm, O so lovely!
Rain, rain, rein...

_______
Blog, or dog? Who knows. But if you see my lost pup, please ping me!
http://journals.aol.com/virginiaz/DreamingofLeonardo/

*
The guards change places
Where this evening’s crowd spills farther out

And patterns demure plots we chance upon ~
Perspective races to catch up,

Restrains a halted welling up of tears. Fears. Years.
Something’s coming up the stairs,

An underground stream diverts around
What forces it to surface, accommodates tricks

Of the terrain, streams past backward-looking efforts ~
Forms this pool of sparkling clear recognition.

A visibly receding tide uncovers ornamental
Artifact, wrought iron table, a reflecting pool

A pocketed reminder of what we swam into, undiscovered
On an ocean-front court, where games played

Us, mallets, we, sports on the lawn, or lingering
On the phone? Minutes idle speculation, propose

Colors of a summer’s day, or compose what the croquet
Ball said ~ Colors scatter into flight ~ Lace

Our path of stones tenderly across the wonders of
Knowing what stays behind, you running

Off for another story, old or borrowed, new, too,
Will do nicely, thank you! Choice

Summons what fathoms below mind, or behind
You, look! See, fooled you! The mind steps, moves

Forward. Steps, now mind! Move forward, do as me! Practice
My piano daily, my Baby Grande, upended sidewise,

For to play a lark’s tune twice. Nice,
Hm? *smile* These terraced steps, yes, steps our mind,

Mends a way. Each day. Move farther up,
As does time, when told not to stay. No, not today.

Each fresh prospect bore a general likeness, or
Bore forth further deletions, until a welcome party,

A company of those others, too, told, “No longer necessary
For you to stay.� Me? I knew not what to say.

Sometimes, I forgot me, but others, not. These Steps of
The Mind that stay behind, say, “Not!

Each fresh prospect bears a general likeness, completes
Further deletions. Until you figure out what’s

Not.� It comes as no surprise. “Spills unrehearsed scenes
We frame within,� Mind replied. So, said I,

“Yes, I see.� Yes, you do. “So see how much
Time has passed, transpired, in the lapsed second

Of our hour.� Okay, will do. “You do.� So
Indeed, I checked, indeed, I saw how much time

Swallowed me and you. Us, both, drafted the missing part ~
[See: A Jig] Me, figuring the consequences, you,

Directing my play from another hitherto un ~
Scened angle, bending my angle of repose, until!

O know! O yes, I see! The consequences, now puzzled,
But confident. But confidential, instead of Need’s lame

Sometime. Or what’s in store, too. Well, you know, I say,
“I really can’t say where we’ve flown off

Toward ~ What target snags your attention,
Your pointy-headed feathered dart shot

Through darkness. Hark, nay! Or
Do you merely shoot the vanishing point,

Clarified and trouble-free? A pristine azure
Blue ~ a two ~

Part invention, or a four ~
Part fugue?

*

To the next chapter, where a reprieved
Neatly and concisely explained,
The Reading Room vanished, but lingers here somewhere ~

Places you’d frame if you could, proof of innocence,
The first clear sight of another audience ~
_______
Blog, or dog? Who knows.
But if you see my lost pup, please ping me!
http://journals.aol.com/virginiaz/DreamingofLeonardo