Postings this week will include selections from Art and Artists:
Poems, an anthology of ekphrastic poems by Emily Fragos, Knopf, 2012. We’ll
start with “Vermeer” by Tomas Tranströmer.

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The Little Street |
Vermeer
Trans. by Samuel Charters
No sheltered world . . . on the other side of the wall
the noise begins
the tavern begins
with laughter and bickering, rows of teeth, tears,
the din of bells
and the mentally disordered brother-in-law, the bearer
of death that everyone must tremble for.
The great explosion and the delayed tramp of rescuers
the boats that strut at anchor, the money that creeps
into the pocket of the wrong person
demands piled on demands
Cusps of gaping red flowers that sweat premonitions
of war.
Away from there and straight through the wall
into the bright studio
into the second that goes on living for hundreds
of years.
Paintings titled The Music Lesson
or Woman in Blue Reading a Letter --
she's in her eighth month, two hearts kicking
inside her.
On the wall behind her hangs a wrinkled map of
Terra Incognita.
Breathe calmly . . . An unknown blue material is nailed
to the chair.
The gold upholstery tacks flew in with unheard-of speed
as if they had never been anything but stillness.
The ears ring with either depth or height.
It's the pressure from the other side of the wall
that leaves every fact suspended
and holds the brush steady.
It hurts to go through walls, it makes you sick
but it's necessary.
The world is one. But walls . . .
And the wall is part of yourself --
Whether you know it or not it's the same for everyone,
everyone except little children. No walls for them.
The clear sky has set itself on a slant against the wall.
It's like a prayer to emptiness.
And the emptiness turns its face to us
and whispers,
"I am not empty, I am open."
ekphrastic poems painters poets
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