It is said that after losing his wife, Orpheus was torn to pieces by Maenads, who threw his head into the River Hebron. The head went on singing and forgetting, filling up with water and floating away.
Eurydice already forgetting who she is
with her shoes missing
and the grass coming up through her feet
The white lady in a friend’s garden, Olive, NY. With loving thanks.
searching the earth
for the bracelet of tiny weave on her charcoal wrist
Japanese primula, Mt. Cuba, Delaware, 2019. Legacy of the du Pont Copelands
the name of a fly or flower already forgetting who they are
they grow they grow
Flame azalea, Winterthur, Delaware. Legacy of Henry Francis du Pont
till their bodies break their necks
Philadelphia Flower Show in who knows which year!
down there in the stone world
where the grey spirits of stones he around uncertain of their limits
matter is eating my mind I am in a river
I in my fox-cap
Drownings, 1975, mixed paper collage. Varujan Boghosian, American born 1926. Courtesy of the artist exhibited in 2017 at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.
floating between the speechless reeds
I always wake like this being watched
Specimen unnumbered, 1981, silver gelatin print. David Lede, American born 1948. Philadelphia Art Museum
already forgetting who I am
the water wears my mask
I call I call
lying under its lashes like a glance
Chanticleer, Wayne, Pennsylvania
if only a child on a bridge would hoik me out
there comes a tremor and there comes a pause
down there in the underworld
where the tired stones have fallen
and the sand in a trance lifts a little
it is always midnight in those pools
Siberian Squill, Winterthur, Delaware
iron insects engraved in sleep
I always wake like this being watched
I always speak to myself
no more myself but a colander
Fern, Winterthur, Delaware
draining the sound from this never-to-be mentioned wound
can you hear it
you with your long shadows and your short shadows
ShadowLife 070, 2014 (digital file), 2018 (print). David Lebe, American born 1948 loan to an exhibition at the Philadelphia Art Museum, 2019
can you hear the severed head of Orpheus
Chanticleer, Wayne, Pennsylvania
no I feel nothing from the neck down
already forgetting who I am
the crime goes on without volition singing in its bone
not I not I
the water drinks my mind
as if in a black suit
as if bent to my books
only my face exists sliding over a waterfall
Chanticleer, Wayne, Pennsylvania
and there where the ferns hang over the dark
and the midges move between mirrors
some woman has left her shoes
two crumpled mouths which my voice searches in and out
my voice being water
which holds me together and also carries me away
until the facts forget themselves gradually like a contrail
I forget the story. Why did Maendas cut off the head of Orpheus?
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There is more than one variation of the story but in general, Orpheus, a poet trained by the Muses loved his poetry more than anything else and the gods had the Maenads kill him out of jealousy. He preferred his poetry to them.
I forget the story. Why did Maendas cut off the head of Orpheus?
There is more than one variation of the story but in general, Orpheus, a poet trained by the Muses loved his poetry more than anything else and the gods had the Maenads kill him out of jealousy. He preferred his poetry to them.
that’s the gods for you. Thanks for the info.
Exactly!