The Interior
I am half sick of shadows,
Falling from all the weary verticals:
The weave of time and burden of place.
The river is open, the horizon closed.
I wonder how much this life can disclose.
The world will begin, the world will end.
I can balance lust with many intricate ends,
Dropping to the floor, running to the door.
Flesh out a mortal son just as womanhood has begun.
I don’t hold out hope for the higher spheres;
An earthly paradise is what there is:
The lavish praise for mortal beauty,
Dwelling over the earth, but few ever see
The luminosity that makes us free.
The poem is based on the Pre-Raphaelite painting, ‘I am half sick of shadows’ by John William Waterhouse. The last in his series illustrating The Lady of Shalott.
Comments
artisus | January 8, 2009 - 10:55
I liked this one so much that I wrote a response! Well done Ross.
Ssor | January 10, 2009 - 18:37
I'm glad you liked it. I didn't pay real attention to the Lady of Shalott story. This painting illustrates the point just before the mirror breaks. I haven't decided if that fits with the ending or not. Interestingly, Bernini always sculpted sitters at the moment before they spoke.
Art is more germinal than manifest I suppose.