augenblick oder augenlicht oder augenbild or a dagger ready to bury
itself into lucretia by lucas cranach staatsgalerie stuttgart who could
see her otherwise when-never under the veil would gaze at the gaseous gauze the luftpuff
of the shawl trembling in tenuous vibrissas of air barely revealing total nudity head
of the shawl trembling in tenuous vibrissas of air barely revealing total nudity head
red curls apple-red cheeks a few shining golden rings dangling from
the coif the ivory of her forehead eyes half-open in death in ecstasy-rage
over vengeful death i never saw a dagger so elaborate a blade all knife all groove
and sharp right from its chiseled handle goldbronze inlays tawnier than the
usual burnish and the tawny halo against black ground and an oblique faint
landscape vanishing disappearing bluepinkgreenblack with red dots and in
total nudity under the lavish coif as if affixed suspended from the pearl choker
or from the shoulder pad of the shawl plaited over the shoulder blade the invisible glass
oshawl from cellophane threads you’d say if there had been cellophane back then fine waist
slim torso the breasts barely sketched with pink rosebuds the navel highlighted
small shell the evasive line of the right thigh raised over the left
small pinksmooth shell of twilight the navel conchiglia slight roundness of the
left thigh against black ground and the fold of the groin converging into a thread of
shadow into finest silkshadow down barely grazed by the gauzy gossamer
in a whirlwind stroke the thread of shadow flowing into a triple meeting of
shadows where life dims velvet tapestry barely visible life and the
dagger erect frozen sharp steel dormant death-rose la vie en rose the
rose-flush detained pre-death but you know medieval figures in street-corners
kiosks mantilla-shrouded nursenuns selling bibles go you know store windows
on every corner bibles in shop windows scrawled in gothic while street choirs
sing salvation grind salvation grüss'gott gretchen grüss'gott frau
doctor grüss'gott anna old ladies in hats like toadstools umbrella-shaped
in secret covens sipping tea tee mit zitronensaft water wine-tinted in
teacups turning red bags of ground tea leaves on strings hung in cups
all ready for the peaceful parliament of toadstools and old ladies fat
oldsters ancient old ones semi-old aging withered withering wrinkling
thin old fattening toadstoolcrones savoring apple tarts apfelkuchen
oozing filling like creamy tumors guten appetit and elsewhere
diane de poitiers reflected in her mirror a ruby in her haiddress a pearl at the
parting of the hair pearling an equally ivory brow her hair done up
greenblonde chiseled face tapering chinwards softly pointed arch of green
eyebrows the fine aquiline nose a half a hesitant perhaps an almost quasi
half-smile on her face lips surprised in a half-open kiss and the gossamer
shawl heavier this time graygold half-veiling shoulders and arms and nudity
greengold whirl nudity mature rose and aging her breast-goblets
erect nipples a string of pearls trickling between the breasts two fingers
fondling a pearl the other two a ring the mirror doubling the image but
this could be the book on the plinth two figures a fleshy copula in bronze