a foggy field in haddam

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Digital

Artist Notes

© 2011 RC deWinter ~ All Rights Reserved ________________________________________________________________________________ Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird ________________________________________________________________________________ I ________________________________________________________________________________ Among twenty snowy mountains, The only moving thing Was the eye of the blackbird. ________________________________________________________________________________ II ________________________________________________________________________________ I was of three minds, Like a tree In which there are three blackbirds. ________________________________________________________________________________ III ________________________________________________________________________________ The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds. It was a small part of the pantomime. ________________________________________________________________________________ IV ________________________________________________________________________________ A man and a woman Are one. A man and a woman and a blackbird Are one. ________________________________________________________________________________ V ________________________________________________________________________________ I do not know which to prefer, The beauty of inflections Or the beauty of innuendos, The blackbird whistling Or just after. ________________________________________________________________________________ VI ________________________________________________________________________________ Icicles filled the long window With barbaric glass. The shadow of the blackbird Crossed it, to and fro. The mood Traced in the shadow An indecipherable cause. VII ________________________________________________________________________________ O thin men of Haddam, Why do you imagine golden birds? Do you not see how the blackbird Walks around the feet Of the women about you? ________________________________________________________________________________ VIII ________________________________________________________________________________ I know noble accents And lucid, inescapable rhythms; But I know, too, That the blackbird is involved In what I know. ________________________________________________________________________________ IX ________________________________________________________________________________ When the blackbird flew out of sight, It marked the edge Of one of many circles. ________________________________________________________________________________ X ________________________________________________________________________________ At the sight of blackbirds Flying in a green light, Even the bawds of euphony Would cry out sharply. ________________________________________________________________________________ XI ________________________________________________________________________________ He rode over Connecticut In a glass coach. Once, a fear pierced him, In that he mistook The shadow of his equipage For blackbirds. ________________________________________________________________________________ XII ________________________________________________________________________________ The river is moving. The blackbird must be flying. ________________________________________________________________________________ XIII ________________________________________________________________________________ It was evening all afternoon. It was snowing And it was going to snow. The blackbird sat In the cedar-limbs. ~ Wallace Stevens