A Mandarin In A Small Blue And White Rice Bowl

A Mandarin In A Small Blue And White Rice Bowl, a still life, an offering of love. The peel turned back to form petals, the segments of fruit loosened slightly, an opening bud. 

This rare bloom, A Mandarin In A Small Blue And White Rice Bowl, is placed on the coffee table before her. Her eyes brighten, she leans forward, reaches, reaches over the work of art, grabs a handful of salted nuts.

The public of one never warms to A Mandarin In A Small Blue And White Rice Bowl, the artist goes unrecognised, his muse apparently unaware of her role. Following works, Warm Mushroom Salad With Shallots And Seeds and Sushi Fetched In Rain, go equally unappreciated. 

Somehow he knows that a shop bought chocolate cake with I Love You written in icing would be a popular gift. He resolves to continue producing works of the ilk of A Mandarin In A Small Blue And White Rice Bowl until he finds an audience, until these gifts of love are understood.

Parkstreet 

An Ending

 

I awake

As the rain

Drips

From the eaves,

But I can’t

Remember 

The raining.

Parkstreet

Farewell Athena

 

A girlfriend once informed me, “coffeehouse observations are not enough”. 

I told her the unexamined life is not worth living, in what I thought was an exemplary use of that quotation, illuminating the position of both Socrates and myself, but she just said, “that’s exactly the sort of shit I mean”. 

Parkstreet 

Ko-Fi

Kitchen Drawer

 

Like the second top drawer,

Since the earthquake last September,

We stick

When we open.

Parkstreet

Past Painting

 

Which

School of art

Did your memory

Attend?

Parkstreet 

Testament

 

She didn’t have kids,

So when I die

My last words

Will be the last time

Anyone

Says her name.

Parkstreet 

Ko-fi

The Summer Of Love

 

The Summer of Love,

Or as it was known 

In my family,

The Summer We Bought The Fondue Kit,

Was ending

As I was born,

But in winter, 

In the wrong hemisphere 

And the wrong house.

Parkstreet

The Process

 

"I need to ask you a favour mate, well, two favours."

"Whaddya' need mate?"

"On Monday I have to take the new work to the gallery, it's too big to carry on my own. Should only take half an hour, down the big stairs, through Woolloomooloo, up the path to the gallery."

"No worries mate, canvas is light, even I can carry that. What's the other favour."

"I need you to take it seriously. We have to be on time to meet the bloke there. And I need you to refrain from tripping down the stairs jokes, from small talk, I don't know mate, for some reason it seems inportant that we carry it there in the right way. It's my first real work. Hope you don't think I'm a being a wanker mate, it's just important to me."

"No worries mate, I understand, like Seymour Glass shining his shoes before he goes on the radio in that Franny And Zooey book you lent me."

"Right mate, just like that."






Parkstreet.