Rouault's deep etch

in other words
an other wound
an other face
another christ
spies
the mirrored slice
of its along,
embosses
an eternal run
to
sandduned shores
below the bridge
beside the bay
the isle of skye
the way it flows
the thisandthat
of nowandthen
a third eye flies
to moments lost
in time
like tears
in rain
until
the swim of ink
the swirl
the swell
the integers
the beamoflight
that meets the suite
in double press
and through-the-eyes-of-all-milieus
a goodfridayedscape
escapes the wipe
beyond the pull
that marks
the trace
of
every bite
on
every plate


Meanwhile

while in the studio of Giacometti
Genet perceives

"...a fold of the mouth, a tiredness in the shoulders...each of their attitudes, perhaps because of the speed of my gaze and of the vehicle, is sketched so quickly, so quickly, so quickly grasped in its arabesque, that each being is revealed to me in its newest, more irreplaceable quality - and it's still a wound - thanks to the solitude where this wound places them, about which they know almost nothing, and yet into which their entire being flows." (Jean Genet)