:: wading in treacle ::

brown swollen water here,

water rooted black trees,

and stranded sheep,

and i gloried in  the medieval painting,

the wind lifting my hair,

then the day slowed,

and dragged and wearied.

I drew the monkey,

and took myself

upstairs to sleep

to rid myself of the number,

and slept as a child.

  • hi sonja just wanted to tell you personally that your poem kept calling me back and each time it taught me a clearer focus. i was speaking about it yet again with a friend this morning and wanted to share the transitions of that with you. “ever astute you saw to the heart of the diamond right away. I did not. but I recognized a brilliant distillation. what did you make of the line “I drew the monkey”? the whole poem transitions from a hellish scene to the innocence of a sleeping child. it is dantean.” “something about the monkey strongly suggested her drawing a tarot card. though to my knowledge there is no monkey in the tarot. ah, but wait, there is. a new vision deck by pietro alligro wherein the magician has a tarot reading monkey. but my vision not hers. there is something in sonja’s work that strongly suggests the supernatural to me, pestilence, treacle, the cards, numerology, the medieval, and the innocent lamb and child. so much so that I did not observe as you did the significance of her action with the number which is the significant revelation. you teach me the still fine artistry of observation. I love the wind lifting her hair. all this in so few strokes. genius at work. omniscient, brooding, intriguing, rorschach canvas, and light, chiaroscuro. amazing.”

    “going back to read sonja’s poem today and I see it completely in a different way. I realize that what I saw the first time was myself reflected back to me. now I see a human looking about them at the world, looking at themselves in the world/and out of it, and separating themselves from it again to innocent sleep.
    what an amazing crucible that sleek unadorned poem is. it is alchemical.”

    and even if i still am only reaching for your intent, i just wanted you to know that the alchemy is working on me.
    your talent moves along a fine edge. a gift. thank you.
    b   “

Barbara Maat


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