Not to be Reproduced

Girl in the Window by Peter Crane
Girl in the Window by Peter Crane

cover and spine of The Sound and the Fury were immaculately reflected in reverse
as the mind snapped weird copies of the world in craving for a lost distant presence
but somehow a disconnected likeness of himself stood out in front facing away
instead of a static representation that laid bare the real substance of his appearance
an exact rendition by way of reflected light and colour attempting nature’s original
Coyote witnessed his own reluctant exodus into a remote and foreign landscape
uncreated and unformed a weak forgery lacking the emotion of a human’s brush
cradled in the yearning of his gaze the back of his head a separate weightless mass
sad droopy eyes turned away and averted in the empathy-drain of exclusion
as though he jumped from his own skin departing like a friend’s cooling affection
projection of 16mm film jerked bouncing frames of the image in a perpetual loop
his back turned now consumed with an ostensible desire for the vanishing point
eventually the horizon faded into nothingness without the hope of a new frame
with distinct intention Coyote now plainly refused to touch the solidity of things
for an anxiety born out of despair tore a vibrant curtain away from the world
that opened the way for the scintillant yet beguiling rays of a distressing radiance
that threw desolate and gloomy shadows of artificial images onto his mind’s eye
it was as though he could only watch himself act without recourse to his own script
as he moved in and about poorly designed props always on the verge of dissipation

Tamar danced around in her backyard tossing colourful fabrics in the air
whirling about to catch the gauze on her face to veil herself from the world
yet the translucent gossamer’s open weave simply softened her point of view
as the shark-tooth scrim’s subtle distortion actually brought things closer
and the fibrous touch of the earth tenaciously scratched at her sensitive eyes
calling her to distinguish and participate in the presence of the theatre of existence
all the while Coyote watched himself watching her from beside the gazebo
he saw himself crying to himself without being able to feel the tears’ cause
contemplating that this moment was merely a sad echo of the same older moments
reaching out for some kind of reassurance he ruffled the blades of grass around him
hoping for a special contact that would dissemble and reform through his senses
but they only arose as a distant almost intangible illusion in a dissolved reality
she approached laughing with her bag of translucent cloth slung at her side
taunting like an ostentatious matador with a swath of abstract crimsons
eventually veiling his face so that the scene was disclosed in hot exposure
for a moment the firmness of his own flesh returned with an odd feeling of mass
he began to take pleasure in the affirming rose-colored rendition of the backyard
Tamar covered her own face with a sheet of white gauze to blend reality with cream
abruptly lips behind red and white diaphanous material met in tableau
eternal moment pulling Coyote from afar to sink back into home’s canniness
nevertheless the stage curtains eventually closed on the fixed actors’ embrace
but was captured in a manner similar to that of the famous Belgian artist

Tamar returned home with her bag of fantastic veils
as Coyote gazed into the mirror of odd reflections

A Coyote poem by Peter Crane