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FROM the RED BRANCH JOURNAL NUMBER FOUR

 

 

 

 

BACK TO SIRMIONE

LUCAS HUNT

 

 

 

Name any subject, young man

Who wrote with reeds dipped in heavy ink,

      sometimes so thick

it was watered down with wine.

You foresaw nothing yet

      found this place,

an opera singer too, her voice sailed

      across the blue lake.

There were no ferries then. You were lord

of the wind-blown peninsula,

      naturally isolated.

John Steinbeck had a similar situation.

I know, forgive my trespasses

      and stumble on things.

Instead of a castle, he built

      an octagon the size of an outhouse

and called it Joyous Garde.

Who cares, dear spirit, you touched

the hand of our greatest poet

      and seriously, Gaius,

we still don't know how to live in America,

      can you believe it?

I guess prophecy exists to neglect

and my reason for returning

      to your rainy peninsula

is to decipher the gulls flying above.

CANDY KENNEDY, UNTITLED, 2013

"The folder she opened contained studies, rough drawings with occasional notation, body parts mostly. The studies were of her, her body and her face, perfectly understandable, for she had seen these studies before, viewed them just after they had been sketched on the days and nights when she had posed for them. Perhaps some of the notation was new, but besides that the papers in this folder presented no new information until she had turned about twenty or so papers over to lie flat in a pile as the orientation of the folder suggested. Thus, it was when she was well into the stack of papers that the woman in the studies wasn't her."

 

Michael Onofrey, from "The Fourth Folder"

MARTIN SWIFT, "BLOODY BEACHFRONT," 2013

10.5 X 6 INCHES, OIL ON PANEL

the RED BRANCH JOURNAL  © 2014