I would watch him lifting another drink from the fridge, joke about the connection with a triangular trade - bedroom to kitchen fridge, then to the bathroom - only to repeat the cycle not knowing such comments scratched his eyes climbing through the window for escape. [56] CASTING ROCKS Merely on edge, the wharf in bad light clinging to water's ledge - a loon from afar the Woods closing with each sound. Casting rocks toward moon's glare lapidations laughing back, the treacle of warm night coaxing fire's glowing might. Sudden, oceanic wilderness breathless in barked silence - and camphor to keep the flies at distance, the anchored boat like a prison ship dallying on the waves, brambles & underbrush sunken wet sand, abundant berries rasp in thickets - the cottage like a jar closing for the night. [57] BRUSHSTROKE On rue Vincingetorix, a Paris hovel in a garret of cold - Gauguin enchanted serpentine colours, the medium of a brushstroke from a paltry primitivism. Rue Vincingetorix, cloudy haze sun as billowing plaster, neatly laps scrapes clean the bereavement of a man's pain. [58] MAN In the old air by his rocker, a silent trapeze of thought suspends an aging man. Each movement as of the katydid droning - a monologue with the past; a buzz escaping across still, warm air. Elsewhere, cicadas whittle about the octogenarian heat. Nestled quietly, a supine stare erodes both time & place unto bearded grey - nuances clasped in a breathless chat with death. [59] LANDING SCHEMES Omens are the cloth of dreams scissors used to open sky - the future riding birds en route to ariel docking piles. Leonardo was of the opinion creativity might be enhanced a notch should aspiring artists nota bene principalities, bile, their rhumes as tiles then perceive them piecemeal as stratagem, not snuff or random blotch, the heads of diseased pigs but conjuror-sextants toward the stars. [60] MIRAGE The intense focus of light but pointillism, into this juncture bits of light surround rough, inverted sky - dawn is their message unfurled