1895-1908 Loie Fuller’s Serpentine Dance
FOR my first twenty years, since yesterday,
I scarce believed thou couldst be gone away ;
For forty more I fed on favours past,
And forty on hopes that thou wouldst they might last ;
Tears drown’d one hundred, and sighs blew out two ;
A thousand, I did neither think nor do,
Or not divide, all being one thought of you ;
Or in a thousand more, forgot that too.
Yet call not this long life ; but think that I
Am, by being dead, immortal; can ghosts die?
Oil and acrylic on canvas. 60cm x 90cm
Oil and acrylic on canvas. 70cm x 65cm
The lightning struck him and left a scar.
The wind stopped blowing and the wheat stood up.
Self-tensed self, who is this I that says I ?
I had a scar in the shape of lightning
That split in half when I opened my mouth.
The sun just a circle of heat in the sky
Throwing absence in the shape of clouds
Down on the field. Another life placed
In the middle of the life I called my own.
A lesser god commanded the front: return.
A little god knocked about in the germ.
The third person put me outside my own sphere.
A small god chanting lightning in the synapse.
Wind blows the wheat down. He calls it prayer.