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Black Paintings (part 1)

Boyer Rickel

          Your vision is changing things; you are changing. The paintings are not.

                             -Holland Cotter on Ad Reinhardt’s “Black Paintings”


The eels on ice in Chinatown—our appetite for pattern’s satisfactions.

Love’s refusals: “All appetites have their illusions,” the critic writes.

Leopard seals trilling low, droning calls beneath the ice. Or chalk

Stick figures on the sidewalk, tiny toy trucks in the dirt on either side.

Our appetites. Our satisfactions. Vertebrae a list, a theme and variations.

The river flowing under ice; the heart beating in a chest. Love’s

Theme and variation: ice compressed of air turns blue. Black ice

Permits a walker on the lake to see what’s at the bottom. Tessitura:

The extreme ranges, as in the high and low notes of a composition.

Love’s expanses: When little happens, the brain compresses time.

“Let’s not forget,” the artist said, “that small emotions are the great

Captains of our lives.” The highs and lows of appetite, of satisfaction.

Love’s economy: A system of vowels, a spider’s silk-lined walls.

Or tide lines on the shore: The high and low, a theme and variation.

A child’s pyramid of stones. An appetite for love’s refusals.



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“Let’s not forget,” the artist said, “that small emotions are the great

Theme, in variations.” Ice compressed of air turns blue; black as ice—

Love’s refusals. “All appetites have their illusions,” a critic writes,

“In love’s expanses.” When little happens, the brain compresses time.

The heart beating in a chest, a river flowing under ice. Love’s

Extreme ranges, as in the high and low notes of a composition,

Or a child’s pyramid of stones. An appetite for love’s refusals

Permits a walker by the lake to see what’s at the bottom. Tessitura

Of appetite, of satisfactions. Vertebrae a list, a theme and variations.

Like eels on ice in Chinatown—our appetite for pattern’s satisfactions.

Leopard seals trilling low, droning calls beneath the chalky ice.

Stick figures on the sidewalk, tiny toy trucks in the dirt on either side.

Like tide lines on the shore, the highs and lows a theme and variations,

Captaining our lives. The highs and lows of appetite, of satisfaction

In love’s economy—a system of vowels, a spider’s silk-lined walls.



Boyer Rickel

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