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Dali
| Open Poetry #36 |
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Dali |
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davidmerriman Member
since 2003-04-30
Posts 123Dallas, TX |
At the Dali Museum in Saint Petersburg Florida I saw paint painted thick, perfect, richly photographic, splashed-on paint; paint to be oceans, rocks, nipples so real they became bashful; paint you could squint and never catch cheating. I couldn’t dare fathom how he did it. Salvador Dali, the survived second, squirmed into life only desirous to show whatever sat inside him. How he did it with only paint---just some binder and additive---I still don’t understand. Listen! This was no glossy page from a book! This was paint; this was the same earthy material splashed stupidly on the side of a house. I could spy in this substance an entire thesis standing next to a naked lady shuttering next to a private delirium. Oh, Dali, I felt like weeping. I, merely a dictionary-arranger, some amateur writer trying to describe, not create; desperate for a lesser immortality. |
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| © Copyright 2005 David Merriman - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Aenimal Member Rara Avis
since 2002-11-18
Posts 7350the ass-end of space |
there was, and will never be, another dali. genius/madness. nice write |
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