a venezian secret

At my painting lecture today
I decided to abandon voice
I spoke only
in colour and stroke
My audiencio were amazio

I took rabbit skin glue
I took a canvas
Some brushes
and a palette of venezia
Then
A stretcher

This quick sketch, alla prima plein air
an homage to Titan
and Turner
I did
It now hangs in the barber shop.

The seamstress came along too
The seamstress has a husband

He cut and bought my hair
It filled an antica baggii from ancient isfphanastan

The seamstress wept again
The husband smiled
The handsome tattooed  boy
With the trolley rattled down the calle

He stood still for only a moment
Then he and antica baggio  were gone
To
The womens prison
on guidecca

They sing as they weave
They weave men
From the hair of the blessed
They sit them in their work rooms
They put drinks in their hairy hands
They tell them things

No one knows
Yet
The women sing

And the men
They continue
Thinking they know

And the women sing
And the song
Is the
Sound of the laguna
It is a silken sigh

I could cry
For them
The women
Never
For
The men


Venezia alla superba mondial