#2039 - in Turner's least corners

 

2039

6.212

31.vii.25

in Turner’s least corners

                                                                                    

a diffuse mist

lost souls suggest

 

here’s Hannibal’s snowstorm crossing the alps

the elephant in the distance – a speck

 

a storm of spears for supplication

here’s Napoleon too

and odds against

 

the everyday fury loosed for occasion

 

it’s as if, were there just a name to call

one would be able to do something

but as it is, peering in to disaster

 

we bring to the picture

the faceless attitude shown

 

nothing to commit

 

these falls are of an untethered heaven

here’s allegorical beauty of a wreck

 

the heaving and the hauling, the hunger march

the endless war, the elements

 

all vain as per a purpose lacking

 

the ever present multitude presses on

and on towards their doom

 

so show

best works are least complete

 

and as for the stokes of the brush

there’s a kind of callous enthusiasm

as if matter-of-fact, this fascination

 

light smitten

like the sea goes down with the ship

 

we just happen to be here