Erased de Kooning
Goodbye charcoal. Goodbye ink. Goodbye curious visitors. Goodbye crayons numbering more than 48 and less than 64. Goodbye Dutch mumbling. Goodbye pencils 1 and 2 and 7. Goodbye gestures, grand and hidden. Goodbye New York City Harbor in daylight, but mainly at night. Goodbye tics, not quite hidden. Goodbye 61 consecutive work days. Goodbye hang ups. Goodbye eraser crumbs. Don’t sneeze. Or do. Goodbye woman as wife and subject. Goodbye women and women. Hello traces. Hello shadows large and medium size and small. Hello hints, almost too subtle. Wave like the queen when you wave. Lots and lots of hellos.
Mike James makes his home outside Nashville, Tennessee. His fourteen poetry collections include: Parades (Alien Buddha), Jumping Drawbridges in Technicolor (Blue Horse), First-Hand Accounts from Made-Up Places (Stubborn Mule), Crows in the Jukebox (Bottom Dog), My Favorite Houseguest (FutureCycle), and Peddler’s Blues (Main Street Rag.)
The Ekphrastic Review
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