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FROM the RED BRANCH JOURNAL NUMBER FOUR
BACK TO SIRMIONE
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,
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