Woolgathering
from Playing Cards in Purgatory, oil on panel, Kelli Hoppmann, 2002
They all cheat, of course: on spouses, at games,
or themselves. They color their hair even though
their masks would cover it. They practice unnatural
expressions, wear heavy gowns with hidden pockets,
conceal deadly weapons. Not the least of which
are their own bodies. But they are mere amateurs
compared to you: their arrows fly disappointingly
straight, and they never notice that your horns
curve backward. You could easily have them naked
in a few minutes of strip poker, but you would prefer
to let events develop spontaneously: at the point
of their simultaneous release, your dragonfly drone
will record it for future use. You are something else
in sheep’s clothing, under a blanket of red wool.
* * *
Fox Wife
from Moon Foxes, oil on panel, Kelli Hoppmann, 2007
You were summer: sizzling incandescence and scarlet,
showy blossoms, but you married the autumn woman
anyway, even as she wound herself in wreaths of winter
furs, arctic snow covering the harvests, the dying leaves.
You will breathe only blue skies from this day forward.
Don’t turn your head, and don’t look back; the darkness
behind you is just a velvet cloak you can wrap yourself in
whenever you tire of sunshine, of dwindling golden light.
And you can weary of it all; whatever falls: flowers, fruit,
foliage, water’s myriad manifestations. Sooner or later,
ennui, like an endemic parasite, will infest you. Doubtless
you could find other wives as true. Where does she go
at night, with her little black purse? Would her flesh be red
as yours, if you could catch her without her russet skin?
* * *
Trial and Error
from Whisper I, oil on panel, Kelli Hoppmann, 2007
You can choose to listen, or not. Even if you can’t
not hear him, you don’t have to follow his suggestions.
Even if you follow his suggestions, you can pretend
it was your idea in the first place, that no harm
was done, that you really liked it. Even if you like it,
you can take it or leave it; it doesn’t have to become
an obsession. Even if you start to think about it
all the time, you can distract yourself: long walks
beneath the boughs, cold showers, the burn of bourbon.
Pain can be a distraction, if necessary. Or is this pain?
Even if you go through the motions, recite the litany
from the last word onward, count your blessings
(the dregs and splinters you wouldn’t dream of gathering
back into your heart), you don’t have to believe.
* * *
Paintings reproduced with permission from the artist.
Tags: artwork, f.j. bergmann, kelli hoppmann, poetry, poets
These are marvelous. I love how they interplay with the images but create their own fantastical worlds that can stand alone.
I usually have a hard time with poetry, but this is perfect.
They reminded me of Elizabeth Bishop – and I enjoyed them, and the paintings, very much.
Who has a devil tail though – lions? Kangaroo rats?
These were so lovely, I wanted a “like” button so I could say, “I’m speechless, but this touched me.”
Well. I’m speechless, but this touched me.
Beautiful. I’m always so happy when you guys publish poetry. Please never stop.
They’re lovely. I like how one of the characters in each painting is ‘you.’ Now please write another poem for each painting with the other characters as ‘you.’ Thank you!
This is poetry and this is me clicking through.
I have a soft spot for any riff on a sonnet and these are fantastic. Thirteen-syllable lines!
This is poetry and this is me clicking through.
I have a soft spot for any riff on a sonnet and these are fantastic. Thirteen-syllable lines!
Beautiful.
These, these, these. Love ekphrastic poetry, and these are especially resonant–the paintings are great, the poems are great, but both grow so much large together. Haunting and familiar in the way only poetry can be. Fox Wife, especially.
These, these, these. Love ekphrastic poetry, and these are especially resonant–the paintings are great, the poems are great, but both grow so much large together. Haunting and familiar in the way only poetry can be. Fox Wife, especially.
I love these, and the paintings, and the worlds they create together.