The Consummation of Art
The subject is the strongest point,
cross member of the frame,
that thing holding the center
together. An idea, at least, to turn
over in the mind, to find
the underbelly and scratch it,
to provoke an emotional response.
What flutters briefly must be snatched
quickly before it disappears.
Record what can be recalled
for its associations and keep
the playback loop until the reel
unspools itself. It may take years.
It may spill out in one night.
It will as likely not look the same
as when it was stored. Sometimes
the subject is only the surface,
the sound and color, words
waiting for meaning, what comes
together in pleasure. Sometimes
it strains to be heard, to be felt,
to be remembered. But what of
the other, the outside observer,
what of his experience? Dear reader,
the subject is you. Nothing should stand
in the way of your connection to
the beating sense of my poems.
Art is, as Rothko said, like marriage,
a union, meeting of the minds,
a delicate and active relationship.
Lacking consummation,
it’s grounds for annulment.
Robin Shepard is the author of Quiet Stars Falling Into Quicksand Memory (2017) and The Restoration of Innocence (2022). Recent work has appeared in Beatnik Cowboy, MacQueen's Quinterly, Compass Rose Literary Journal, Ghost City Review, and Quibble.
The subject is the strongest point,
cross member of the frame,
that thing holding the center
together. An idea, at least, to turn
over in the mind, to find
the underbelly and scratch it,
to provoke an emotional response.
What flutters briefly must be snatched
quickly before it disappears.
Record what can be recalled
for its associations and keep
the playback loop until the reel
unspools itself. It may take years.
It may spill out in one night.
It will as likely not look the same
as when it was stored. Sometimes
the subject is only the surface,
the sound and color, words
waiting for meaning, what comes
together in pleasure. Sometimes
it strains to be heard, to be felt,
to be remembered. But what of
the other, the outside observer,
what of his experience? Dear reader,
the subject is you. Nothing should stand
in the way of your connection to
the beating sense of my poems.
Art is, as Rothko said, like marriage,
a union, meeting of the minds,
a delicate and active relationship.
Lacking consummation,
it’s grounds for annulment.
Robin Shepard is the author of Quiet Stars Falling Into Quicksand Memory (2017) and The Restoration of Innocence (2022). Recent work has appeared in Beatnik Cowboy, MacQueen's Quinterly, Compass Rose Literary Journal, Ghost City Review, and Quibble.
