What a tragedy, the shape I'm in
Can you read between the lines? What do you see?
Saturday, 8 May 2010
Artists in a London setting
The way he strokes my back, as if he's measuring, by eye; being sensitized; experimenting, discovering and exploring - that's the word - exploring. The body as an unknown territory - a part of the New World - was Donne's little fetish. Sometimes so pretentious, to read these valedictions, thinking you'd be embarrassed if you thought in the same way. But it's genius. And like the wonder of a voyage itself, cannot be fully grasped - not even partly - if not experienced, completely. So here is this man, this used-to-be-boy, with his stubble and his quintessentially male figure, and I feel that he is discovering me. Unfolding every little bit of my flesh and soul like a curious child. The body which is so neglected - a primary miracle, primal, now taken for granted, is apotheosized in those eyes. Penetrating, darting eyes. Dark slits holding two globes of wonder; long eyelashes that could catch fire.
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