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Notes, Quotes, Gallery, Sundry

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 Marne's Café

My portrait by Marcel Antonio

Marne’s Café: The Mystery in the Reverie

                                  (Marcel Antonio paints me a portrait. I first met

                                Marcel to exchange gifts: I to give him my book with

                               another painting of his on the cover; and he to present

                               me with this painting.)

                

 

1

Omniscient artist, in a moment acute

Or clairvoyant, or perhaps merely 

Indulgent, gifted me with a curious portrait:

 

I am in a bar or reading room, in unfamiliar

Company: it is a puzzle in a riddle, mystery

Inside a reverie. I’m calling it Marne’s Café.

 

One can begin with the colors, yielded

 By the artist’s peculiar way with tints and

Pigments, and the almost absent brush strokes

That create the fuzz of surfaces, the downy

Texture of the fabrics and drapery, the fluff

Of my green sweater as I pore over a thin

 

Book that might be a diary. Or the shirt

Of the man facing me (my fingers brushing

His nose if there were no depth of space

 

Between us), with that same plush

Behind his black necktie. He flicks his

Cigarette into an ash tray, his lush

 

brown hair combed back, a contrast

To my gray, still as thick and wavy. Our eyes

Never meet: perhaps he is my past trying

 

To divine the future, but he cannot

See me at all. May be that's all there is to it

Between him and me.

                                       2

                                    Between him and me:

A miniature train on a railroad, and old locomotive

Going nowhere, comes straight from my childhood—

The artist again configuring me

(But not my neck-tied past in the industry

Of mad men looking straight through me).

Behind us: three women who resemble 

No one I know. The one in red dress 

Of deep shade, white-dotted, inspects 

A sheet with the drawing of a chalice; 

Opposite her on the canvas (but her back 

Turned towards her), behind the man in tie,

 

Another girl in a yellow ochre strapped

Shift is similarly absorbed by the tomato in her

Hand; she has crossed her legs and we have

A glimpse of thigh and she is probably tall.

                     Behind her, off-center right,

Another girl, facing the window, her back

Towards us, has opened her notebook

To a place marked by red ribbon. 

In her royal blue three-quarter sweatshirt

She languorously combs her hair with her

Fingers or she has simply rested her forearm

 

On top of her head so she can resume

Her reading as she is about to take

A sip of her coffee.

 

                               3

                             Behind the girl

With the chalice sheet, a bearded man

In black hat, face half-hidden (who looks

 

Like a poet I know), casts his piratical gaze

Perhaps at the viewer or again sees through us. 

Between these duos at either side of canvas, 

A brown Mayon Volcano (again from my 

Childhood) rises under an aquamarine sky 

Daubed with curls of cloud and a filigree

Of trees. 

            Is Mayon—bald, spent, burnt—

Eroded by drought or the monsoon?

Is the globe thoroughly warmed, 

Or abandoned by typhoons? Or both,

As the meteorologists and conservationists

Predict? The leaves are not moving. No one

 

Is looking at anybody. All are occupied by 

Chalice, tomato, a page bookmarked,

A perhaps-diary. Untitled entries 

To a diurnal journal: 

 

                                    4

                                  The undefined, 

The unlisted, the un-chronicled.

The averted faces gaze inward,

Perhaps to the unintended

                                       Meanings

In the lines of composition

The patterns of design

The points of intersection

The code within the frame

The vectors of Vetruvius

The core of the koan

The kernel of ekphrasis

The matter of the metaphor

The pith of the periphrasis

The pitfall of the paraphrase

The enigma of the ellipsis

 

(Marcel is not telling)

             

 

Marne Kilates

10 November 2019; rev. 25 December 2021

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