Jim Dine | Poems

Images: Jim Dine, Poems, charcoal on wall, Palazzo delle Esposizioni, Rome 2020, photo Antonio Idini © Azienda Speciale Palaexpo
 
 

MORE DISCREET

LESS SHINING,

MORE

PIGMENT

ON THE BOY.

HAVE TO

MAKE

A DATE FOR

A NIGHT

OF FINE GLASS.

THE PAINT

THAT LAGS

BENEATH THE TRAGIC/

A LOST FACTORY

OF ERROR.

 
 

JIM FINALLY

IS ILL EQUIPT

TO DEAL

WITH THE COMPETITIVE

WORLD

OF PUPPETS,

THE TRANQUILITY OF TUSCAN POLITICS

AND CARES AND THE BUSINESS

OF LIFE.

GREEK TEMPLES

AT PAESTUM

GEPPETTO AT POMPƐI

MAGNIFICENCƐ

FOLLOWED BY

INEVITABLE DECLINE

 
 

PAIN OF THE

INVISABLE SELF

THE MEMORY OF IT

GOING FORWARD:

HMMM

PARFAIT

PARFAIT

 
 

TO THE LAND

OF OWLS

BAD BOY,

DISOBEDIENT

BOY AND

FIRESPITTER

GO TO THE

SACRED FIELD

 
 

REAL POVERTY

UNDERSTOOD

BY EVERYONE

WHEN IT’S REAL

STANDS BƐTWEEN

THE BOY

AND HIS SHIRT SLEEVES

 
 

ANGRY

NOT ME

SAYS THE FIRE EATER

SHRUG

I CAN’T SAY

SHE’S FULL

OF THORNS

 
 

NIGHT

IN HIS STOMACH

HIS APPETITE

TRAVELS

TO HIS FINGERS

HE YAWNS

AND FAINTS

 
 

3 LIES

NOSE AGAINST

THE WINDOWPANE

STRIKING

THE ERECT (AND GROWING)

APPENDAGE

IN THE TOO SMALL

ROOM

 
 

THE FIELD OF MIRACLES

MY RIDICULOUS NOSE

I LOVE YOU GOOD FAIRY…

GOOD FAIRY

THE SPOT IN FRONT OF YOUR NOSE

REALLY A FIELD OF MIRACLES

COUGHS UP

WEEPING

 
 

THE FLYING OMLETT

INTERESTING

THE SEARCH

FOR HUNGER,

CLARITY

“VIVRE”

 
 

KISS HIM

KISS HIM AGAIN AND

AGAIN AND

AGAIN AND

SPRING FORWARD

THROW YOUR ARMS

AROUND HIS NECK

 
 

I AM A CHILD WITH RED EARS

MY EARS ARE RED

A SIX YEAR OLD, PINOCCHIO, THE BOY

DOWN WITH POWER!

CHOOOSING MY MOTHER, THE STICK BECOMES JIMMY

HE LIES DOWN WITH THIEVES.

The STICK TALKS ThRU THE SAND

CRYING SINCE I LOST

SLEEPING WITH “BAD FOLKS”

THERE IS AN EMBRACE

ThAT WAKES ThE CARPENTER /

I WRAP MY ARMS AROUND MY EARS

AND WAKE The COLD.

MY DREAMS, AND

THE RED AXE,

LYING ON THE FLOOR.

DEFORMED BY THƐ ORDINARY

UNUSABLE

BUT MY RED DREAMS ARE

CHARGED

BY A CLOUD

THAT IS GREY