all the blue

Distant Light, by Dian Parker

Distant Light, by Dian Parker

The art I am writing to today comes from subscriber (and familiar presence for many of you), the inestimably estimable Dian Parker, who very generously contributes Distant Light. As well as being a painter, Dian has worked as a gallery curator and is a writer in many genres, fiction, memoir, essay and in particular, most recently, art reviews which are published in Observer, artnet and Art & Object, among others. Find her writing, art and much more at her website, here. I should say as well that my poem has greatly benefited from her sharp eye. Thanks, Dian!

 in blue

Swimming in a language 
less than one, 
I think of all that beats, 
all the blue that beats, 
upon the shore:
words, say, 
with no equal
in any other tongue:
pleasure in another's suffering;
the beauty in imperfection;
a longing for that
which can never be; 
the quantity of water 
that can be held in one hand;
multiple intimacies 
of snow—

I think if I knew them all,
the contour, power, 
the depths of every ripple,
each wave and swell, 
all my hazards would cease,
every thing human  
drawn within, 
properly compassed, 
properly released—

But even if it could be,
there still would be 
the blue—a piano 
without keys, a sand-free 
desert, where particles 
still collide, shift shape, 
shadow and dissolve 
into forms yet unknown, 
where the tidal surge 
enfolds lost time
into an expanse, 
a line, to traverse, 
then dreams, 
like sails furled, 
embodiments 
of tomorrow—

Where, if a word were all,
the vessel I see floating, 
there on my horizon, 
ready for me to board, 
would not be necessary.