Monthly Archives: November 2016

The bulldog at the Bourgogne

. Bulldog, you lazy bulldog, I always come to see you, you never come over to see me. Tuffy, Oscar, Max, whatever your name is (I was told it might be Wembly!) You stay with the drinks, me with the … Continue reading

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Brancusi

Take the tangent, I say,               like Brancusi and his white dog Polaire,                and develop a talent for carving                        away the inessential. Cutting corners is the only way           to go           to the nose of things.

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Below the rude screen

The military men dipped the flag of France, it touched the floor. Celui qui a mange de ce pain Celui qui a reçu le soleil Celui en qui l’Eau vive. They did not know the words yet sat above the … Continue reading

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After Trump, at Marsouins

After Trump, at Marousins I was drinking, just a little. The barman put on John Lee Hooker, my blues lifted, just a little. On the TV, Paris St. Germain was kicking ass. “You been gone so long“ John Lee sang … Continue reading

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Fondation Louis Vuitton

  Cher Louis, when you ran away from home, at age 13, in 1835, walking 292 miles to Paris, taking two years to get there, sleeping in stables along the way, finally apprenticing to box-maker, then  starting your own stack-able … Continue reading

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Monet upended

Everything changes, even stone, complained Monet, painting the same subject at different times: the weather, the haystacks, the cathedral, compiling the flow, ultimately  his life. But hard it is to see afresh his great work! I have turned l’Orangerie sideways … Continue reading

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