Poem: "Mira, Miro"



Borrowed from the library of Instituto Cervantes the MoMA catalogue of its 1993 Miró show. The catalogue essay Peinture-Poésie, Its Logic and Logistics by the show curator Carolyn Lanchner gives an interesting overview of Miró's oeuvre. What Picasso said to the young Spanish pretender became the opening of a new poem. I quoted, and, in a few cases, modified, titles of Miró's paintings for the rest of the poem. Miró loved poetry, and gave his paintings poetic titles. To my mind, it is somehow apt to incorporate and orchestrate his painting titles into a poem.



Mira, Miro

La Guitarra advised the Catalan peasant, pretend you’re waiting
for the subway; you have to get in line. Wait your turn, after all.

Painting. A bird eyes the hunter in a pinkish Catalan landscape.
Person throws a stone at a bird. Painting. Hand catching a bird.

A white bird floats above the carnival of harlequins. Painting.
A yellow bird orchestrates a Dutch interior (I). (II). And (III).

The bird as a nightingale sings at midnight and morning rain.
Painting. Women by a lake irradiated by the bird as a swan.

The bird in the form of a little dog barks at the moon. Painting.
The bird stars as escape ladder. Painting. The bird as sunrise.

Painting. Woman haunted by the passage of the bird-dragonfly.
The rose dusk caresses the sex of women and of birds. Painting.

Painting. The bird, with a calm look, looks, its wings in flames.
The bird with plumage spread flies toward the silvery tree.

La Guitarra was right and wrong. He must wait. He musn’t wait.
He’s one pushed in front of el tren. Painting. He’s one pushing.


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