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    A medley of artwork from Le braccianti di Euripide collective

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    Ukrainian Poetry in La Macchina Sognante – In Solidarity with the People of Ukraine

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    Three Poems from “The Bastard and the Bishop” – Gerald Fleming

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    God appeared at midnight: Three poems by Bitasta Ghoshal

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    I dream of the tree of silence: Poems by Rafael Romero

    Always another curtain  to draw open: Five poems by Helen Wickes

    Always another curtain to draw open: Five poems by Helen Wickes

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    FLORAL PRINT FLAT SHOES – Lucia Cupertino

    FLORAL PRINT FLAT SHOES – Lucia Cupertino

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    The Red Bananas – N. Annadurai

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

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    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    A very different story (Part I) – Nandini Sahu

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    After Breaking News – Mojaffor Hossain

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    THE THEATER OF MEMORY – Julio Monteiro Martins

    Let the Rivers Speak! – Lucia Cupertino and the Poetry of the Global Souths, by  Pina Piccolo

    Fanta Blackcurrant – Makena Onjerika

    Photographer Sumana Mitra on her street photography and recent explorations of Surrealist techniques

    All the Sadeqs are getting killed – Mojaffor Hossain, translated by Noora Shamsi Bahar

    Photographer Sumana Mitra on her street photography and recent explorations of Surrealist techniques

    Here, Where We Keep on Meeting – Giuseppe Ferrara

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    Figures of Pathos  (Part I)- Salvatore Piermarini

    Figures of Pathos (Part I)- Salvatore Piermarini

    Plowing the publishing world  – Tribute to Brazilian writer Itamar Vieira, by Loretta Emiri

    Plowing the publishing world – Tribute to Brazilian writer Itamar Vieira, by Loretta Emiri

    Jaider Esbell – Specialist in Provocations, by Loretta Emiri

    Jaider Esbell – Specialist in Provocations, by Loretta Emiri

    Farewell, Silver Girl – Carolyn Miller

    Farewell, Silver Girl – Carolyn Miller

    Lino-printing fairy tales over Constitutions- The artwork of Mihaela Šuman

    Layers of overlap: theatre, cinema, memory, imagination – Farah Ahamed

    Architectures of Delusion –  Steve Salaita

    Architectures of Delusion – Steve Salaita

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    A new reality needed –  A conversation with Mathew Emmett, by Camilla Boemio

    A new reality needed – A conversation with Mathew Emmett, by Camilla Boemio

    Farewell, Silver Girl – Carolyn Miller

    A medley of artwork from Le braccianti di Euripide collective

    Sagar Kumar Sharma in Conversation with Santosh Bakaya

    Sagar Kumar Sharma in Conversation with Santosh Bakaya

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    Sagar Kumar Sharma in a Literary Conversation with Sarita Jenamani

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    Desperately seeking Marion: A Review of ” Women, Antifascism and Mussolini’s Italy – The Life of Marion Cave Rosselli”, by Isabelle Richet

    Desperately seeking Marion: A Review of ” Women, Antifascism and Mussolini’s Italy – The Life of Marion Cave Rosselli”, by Isabelle Richet

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    Tim Ingold’s “Correspondences” – Giuseppe Ferrara

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    But for plants there is no delegating: Seven Poems by Achille Pignatelli

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    Skjelv Du På Handa, Vladimir? / Does Your Hand Shake, Vladimir? –  Transnational Solidarity Project (Odveig Klyve)

    Skjelv Du På Handa, Vladimir? / Does Your Hand Shake, Vladimir? – Transnational Solidarity Project (Odveig Klyve)

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    The malice of desires feeds the power of my imagination – Poems by Mubeen Kishany

    Alahor in Granata: A Forgotten Opera by Donizetti – Fawzi Karim

    Alahor in Granata: A Forgotten Opera by Donizetti – Fawzi Karim

    EARTH ANTHEM : A eulogy of the Earth, its beauty, its biodiversity – Abhay K.

    EARTH ANTHEM : A eulogy of the Earth, its beauty, its biodiversity – Abhay K.

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    IL BIANCO E IL NERO – LE PAROLE PER DIRLO, Conference Milan Sept. 7

    IL BIANCO E IL NERO – LE PAROLE PER DIRLO, Conference Milan Sept. 7

    OPEN POEM TO THE CURATORS OF THE 58th VENICE BIENNALE  FROM THE GHOSTS OF THAT RELIC YOU SHOULD NOT DARE CALL “OUR BOAT” (Pina Piccolo)

    OPEN POEM TO THE CURATORS OF THE 58th VENICE BIENNALE FROM THE GHOSTS OF THAT RELIC YOU SHOULD NOT DARE CALL “OUR BOAT” (Pina Piccolo)

    OPEN LETTER BY A GROUP OF BLACK ITALIAN WOMEN

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  • Home
  • Poetry
    A medley of artwork from Le braccianti di Euripide collective

    The dolls have pronounced it – Poems by Mohamed Kheder

    Ukrainian Poetry in La Macchina Sognante – In Solidarity with the People of Ukraine

    Ukrainian Poetry in La Macchina Sognante – In Solidarity with the People of Ukraine

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    Three Poems from “The Bastard and the Bishop” – Gerald Fleming

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    God appeared at midnight: Three poems by Bitasta Ghoshal

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    I dream of the tree of silence: Poems by Rafael Romero

    Always another curtain  to draw open: Five poems by Helen Wickes

    Always another curtain to draw open: Five poems by Helen Wickes

  • Fiction
    FLORAL PRINT FLAT SHOES – Lucia Cupertino

    FLORAL PRINT FLAT SHOES – Lucia Cupertino

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    The Red Bananas – N. Annadurai

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    THE CULPRIT – Gourahari Das

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    A very different story (Part I) – Nandini Sahu

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    After Breaking News – Mojaffor Hossain

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    THE THEATER OF MEMORY – Julio Monteiro Martins

    Let the Rivers Speak! – Lucia Cupertino and the Poetry of the Global Souths, by  Pina Piccolo

    Fanta Blackcurrant – Makena Onjerika

    Photographer Sumana Mitra on her street photography and recent explorations of Surrealist techniques

    All the Sadeqs are getting killed – Mojaffor Hossain, translated by Noora Shamsi Bahar

    Photographer Sumana Mitra on her street photography and recent explorations of Surrealist techniques

    Here, Where We Keep on Meeting – Giuseppe Ferrara

  • Non Fiction
    Figures of Pathos  (Part I)- Salvatore Piermarini

    Figures of Pathos (Part I)- Salvatore Piermarini

    Plowing the publishing world  – Tribute to Brazilian writer Itamar Vieira, by Loretta Emiri

    Plowing the publishing world – Tribute to Brazilian writer Itamar Vieira, by Loretta Emiri

    Jaider Esbell – Specialist in Provocations, by Loretta Emiri

    Jaider Esbell – Specialist in Provocations, by Loretta Emiri

    Farewell, Silver Girl – Carolyn Miller

    Farewell, Silver Girl – Carolyn Miller

    Lino-printing fairy tales over Constitutions- The artwork of Mihaela Šuman

    Layers of overlap: theatre, cinema, memory, imagination – Farah Ahamed

    Architectures of Delusion –  Steve Salaita

    Architectures of Delusion – Steve Salaita

  • Interviews & reviews
    The Power of the Female Gaze: On Maria Antonietta Scarpari’s Artistic Practice – Camilla Boemio

    The Power of the Female Gaze: On Maria Antonietta Scarpari’s Artistic Practice – Camilla Boemio

    A new reality needed –  A conversation with Mathew Emmett, by Camilla Boemio

    A new reality needed – A conversation with Mathew Emmett, by Camilla Boemio

    Farewell, Silver Girl – Carolyn Miller

    A medley of artwork from Le braccianti di Euripide collective

    Sagar Kumar Sharma in Conversation with Santosh Bakaya

    Sagar Kumar Sharma in Conversation with Santosh Bakaya

    Sagar Kumar Sharma in a Literary Conversation with Sarita Jenamani

    Sagar Kumar Sharma in a Literary Conversation with Sarita Jenamani

    That’s how war left me alive – Wesam Almadani interviewed by Le Ortique

    That’s how war left me alive – Wesam Almadani interviewed by Le Ortique

  • Out of bounds
    • All
    • Fiction
    • Intersections
    • Interviews and reviews
    • Non fiction
    • Poetry
    M’aidez, May Day – Pina Piccolo

    M’aidez, May Day – Pina Piccolo

    Desperately seeking Marion: A Review of ” Women, Antifascism and Mussolini’s Italy – The Life of Marion Cave Rosselli”, by Isabelle Richet

    Desperately seeking Marion: A Review of ” Women, Antifascism and Mussolini’s Italy – The Life of Marion Cave Rosselli”, by Isabelle Richet

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    Tim Ingold’s “Correspondences” – Giuseppe Ferrara

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    But for plants there is no delegating: Seven Poems by Achille Pignatelli

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    Skjelv Du På Handa, Vladimir? / Does Your Hand Shake, Vladimir? –  Transnational Solidarity Project (Odveig Klyve)

    Skjelv Du På Handa, Vladimir? / Does Your Hand Shake, Vladimir? – Transnational Solidarity Project (Odveig Klyve)

    Hunting for images in Guatemala City: Alvaro Sánchez interviewed by Pina Piccolo

    The malice of desires feeds the power of my imagination – Poems by Mubeen Kishany

    Alahor in Granata: A Forgotten Opera by Donizetti – Fawzi Karim

    Alahor in Granata: A Forgotten Opera by Donizetti – Fawzi Karim

    EARTH ANTHEM : A eulogy of the Earth, its beauty, its biodiversity – Abhay K.

    EARTH ANTHEM : A eulogy of the Earth, its beauty, its biodiversity – Abhay K.

  • News
    RUCKSACK – GLOBAL POETRY PATCHWORK PROJECT

    RUCKSACK – GLOBAL POETRY PATCHWORK PROJECT

    REFUGEE TALES July 3-5:  Register for a Walk In Solidarity with Refugees, Asylum Seekers and Detainees

    REFUGEE TALES July 3-5: Register for a Walk In Solidarity with Refugees, Asylum Seekers and Detainees

    IL BIANCO E IL NERO – LE PAROLE PER DIRLO, Conference Milan Sept. 7

    IL BIANCO E IL NERO – LE PAROLE PER DIRLO, Conference Milan Sept. 7

    OPEN POEM TO THE CURATORS OF THE 58th VENICE BIENNALE  FROM THE GHOSTS OF THAT RELIC YOU SHOULD NOT DARE CALL “OUR BOAT” (Pina Piccolo)

    OPEN POEM TO THE CURATORS OF THE 58th VENICE BIENNALE FROM THE GHOSTS OF THAT RELIC YOU SHOULD NOT DARE CALL “OUR BOAT” (Pina Piccolo)

    OPEN LETTER BY A GROUP OF BLACK ITALIAN WOMEN

    OPEN LETTER BY A GROUP OF BLACK ITALIAN WOMEN

    Crowdfunding for [DI]SCORDARE project

    Crowdfunding for [DI]SCORDARE project

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Home Poetry

“Vermeer’s Jacket “and other painterly poems – Helen Wickes

May 1, 2019
in Poetry, The dreaming machine n 4
“Vermeer’s Jacket “and other painterly poems – Helen Wickes
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Vermeer’s Jacket

Wouldn’t you love to crawl inside
that luscious gold? To wrap yourself inside
the satiny, charmeuse, rustling raiment,
decked out with an ermine muff,

embellished with tiny teeth and shiny claws.
Call that woman on the canvas
Vermeer’s excuse for a yellow immersion,
a tawny daydream edged in fur.

No matter how he arranges her—with the lute,
the maid, the guitar, the letter, the decent pearls—
she’s nothing but context
and costume, a recessive coolness

to set off what burns and glows—from brassy sheen
to coppery fire, a yellow to burnish winter’s pallor,
to ransom a drop of light—from metallic
to velvety—a concentration of sunlight

dragged back through leaded glass.
Or maybe he brought home
this sumptuous lure to heat up the muse
herself, waiting until the entire household slept

and then, when he burrowed his entire body
into all that silken topaz treasure,
he could paint anything he wanted.

 

From Dowser’s Apprentice, Glass Lyre Press, 2014.

 

Caravaggio’s on the Conversion of St. Paul

 

We don’t have to like his saint, splayed in the middle of the road,
don’t have to understand the illegible gestures made by his arms
flailing in air, this man who would, if he could, alter hearts by
telling the few they’re gold, as for the rest— we’ll burn. But our
painter—who has yet to leave a man dying from a street brawl in
Rome—he cherishes epiphany’s flash more than its prelude

or wake. In this painting notice how he’s placed the horse, a
sweet-faced, unkempt skewbald, who curls around the
fallen man, one foreleg raised so as not to injure. This
artist’s borrowed dray horse, led clattering to the upstairs
studio, swerves one ear to the background, other ear beyond
the picture frame. In his mouth

a shanked bit, likely the sort with sharp-pronged rollers, so
that when you tug the reins the bit will drag you five
centuries back before Saul became Paul, all the way to
Xenophon, instructing how to train your war horse with a
bit so severe, one touch and yes, he’ll obey, but won’t love
you. Hardly the point for a soon-to-be saint in whose
tumble out of matter toward purity, no easy conversation
between rider and ridden, no pleasure permitted.

From Moon over Zabriskie,  Glass Lyre Press, 2014.

 

Art History

 

About beauty they sometimes get it wrong,
don’t they, the fine scholars,
bent on instruction? For example, right here

with Rembrandt’s Polish Rider, they carry on about
his sorry nag, meaning such a loser,

meaning, because our soldier doesn’t ride a
massive, buffed, and snorting charger (the
curators’ notion of warhorse, deriving from
pigeon-soiled statues, and the latest

remake of Henry V), they tell you where to read
failure—but so what if the horse is scrawny;
look at his rider armed to the teeth

with bows, knives, sword, and ax, scanning over his shoulder as he hurries, you hope to
safety, though the swallowing murk

of Rembrandt’s background refuses comfort
(the horse’s legs, states the placard, most likely
completed by the master’s apprentice). You can
see the soldier rides

the typical flea-bitten gray Polish Arabian.
This creature may be skinny, but he’s fit.
Ignore the critics and trust the horse to get
through winter, survive on snow melt and
whatever gruel the locals will spare.

If you wipe the smirk off your face and put
your feet in the stirrups, with luck the horse
can find the way.

 

 

Lives of the Clouds I

 

John Constable’s Cloud Study, 1822. The title
says it all, the roiling ones above, the white and
massy below, a few tinged rose, and a cloud
streaked gold rips open into blue.

But no one stops to pay homage, they’ve gone to see the
alleged Piero (read the small print: doubtful attribution,
school of
); and it’s John the Baptist with his head still on,
then everyone’s off to the Annunciation,

and Mary with her stricken schoolgirl look— Oh,
gosh, thank you, sir, but heavens, why me?

I prefer my Mary surly, as in, Hey, angel, can’t you tell I’m
busy
. Over there, a famous flagellation

some enjoy comparing to others—more whipping,
less pathos—but let’s stay with these clouds, where
we can’t tell, dear viewer, if the view is out or up or
down—no figures, no horizon,

and what’s the weather, is it storming, or gusty,
maybe snowing. For an instant, we think it’s an
explosion—smoke, dust, and aftermath. And then we
see pure cloud pierced through by daylight, every
permutation illumined from within.

 

 

Upon Completing His Painting Entitled Madame X, John Singer Sargent Thinks about Talking with His Favorite Sister, Emily, a Fellow Painter, in His Paris Studio,

 

No other jewels, I told her, we will set off that pallor,
which as you know, she heightens with a good dusting of
lavender powder. The all of you, I didn’t tell her, trussed
up by ornament. But Emily, I’ve got it, haven’t I? The
strap of her dress lists off her right shoulder— twist of
pearl, gold foil—a trifling jeweled thing

nibbling the skin of her plump, undamaged arm. Not reckless
what I’ve done? She’s eccentric in style, an arriviste,
parvenue. With no real daring, not like Mother— oooh,
children, off we go, to Florence—but do you like the dress,
black, verging on aubergine? Her beauty, what can I say—I
stare. And flinch. Is of a dusky plum,

won’t dry into a prune’s sweet leather, but will spoil at once,
without a trace. Nothing worked. I tried her on chaise, on sofa,
twisting her arms. Here, I have her leaning on the table, her
arm torqued; its weight spirals down.
I tried the pose myself. It felt spectacularly tentative. But some
days—damn them, these ladies, and damn this one’s

right ear, this flaw, I painted a too-pink little object coiled against
the head, but some of Mother in the bosom’s plunge to seemingly
nowhere. Lord, I pity a beautiful woman’s son. Happiness to
these people? They find it cheap, requiring a surrender that’s been
bred out of them. I long for sunshine, a tramp along the sea with
you. Remember that gypsy woman—

poor and drunk and slovenly and glorious—I painted last year in
Venice? Wonder if she’s alive. She was so full of her life that it
poured off her. You could scoop the vitality with your brush, paint

with menace and grace. But Madame X—her beauty is milky, marbled—
no, chalky—like the Dolomites. She exudes chilled air, as breathed off of
new snow. Her sorrow lives in this gray pool smudged

beneath her eyes to which viewers will return for repeated sips. I
doubt that she is loved. Someday, enough of the gorgeousness I’m
hired to serve, much as the governess or their butler. I do their
dogs, their brilliant children, make them all goddessy. When are
you coming? I want you to see the glow–of gentian past bloom—
I’ve laid along her throat. Will you like it?

 

Study of Mme Gautreau c.1884 John Singer Sargent 1856-1925 Presented by Lord Duveen through the Art Fund 1925 http://www.tate.org.uk/art/work/N04102

 

The last three poems are from In Search of Landscape, Sixteen Rivers Press, 2007.

 

Helen Wickes is the author of four books of poetry: In Search of Landscape, Sixteen Rivers Press, 2007; Moon over Zabriskie and Dowser’s Apprentice, both from Glass Lyre Press, 2014; World as You Left It, Sixteen Rivers Press, 2015. All six poems published in this article are from an unpublished manuscript titled “Transit of Mercury”. She grew up on a farm in Pennsylvania, has lived in Oakland, California for many years, and used to work as a psychotherapist.  She is a member of Sixteen Rivers Press, which has recently released the anthology America, I Call Your Name: Poems of Resistance and Resilience.

Tags: CaravaggioHelen WickesJohannes VermeerJohn ConstableJohn Singer SargentpaintingPoetryRembrandt

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