Dear Zazie,
Here is today’s Lovers’ Chronicle from Mac Tag.
Rhett
The Lovers’ Chronicle
Dear Muse,
© copyright 2020 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved
every day
seemin’ly always
connected to you
sometimes an affair
and sometimes not
you have to be willin’
to give somethin’ intimate
and not care, because
you have to believe
struggle against self-doubt,
but underneath i think
of the singular reflection
of you and i believe
© copyright 2019 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved
the letters
the only remedy
always took the course
of least resistance,
along the way,
from one town,
from one heart,
to another
romantic escapades
resemblin’ operatic plots
learn the language
and write letters…
this wanderin’ nature,
and the precariousness
of feelin’s
a letter slipped
into a pocket
not to speak
of what it said…
now finally in a position
of not havin’ to go without
the necessities of life
just what these necessities are,
no one can judge….
understand
how intimacy
can exist
a commitment
to a way of life
to captivate so
to obtain
an understandin’
that inspiration
is all that matters
watchin’, captivated, you swimmin’
through the waters of yesteryear…
in the hill country river near our house,
in the hidden waterfall fed pool in Belize,
in the spring fed horse tank at Seven Cross…
the way your hair would bloom ‘neath the water
one of my greatest pleasures
anything good,
has elements of you
and the certain delight
of livin’, if with nothin’ else
than this consolation
knowin’ you
© copyright 2018 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved
The letters he wrote to her;
His only remedy to keep
from goin’ mad
or dyin’ of regret…
He took the course
of least resistance
Puttin’ himself in a position
where he need no longer go without
any necessities of life
Just what those necessities
were for him, no one could judge….
At first, no one could understand
How an intimacy
could exist between himself
and the woman in Texas
He a man of known character
Her strong in her commitment
to her way of life,
her land and horses
He attracted to every kind
of dissolute livin’
Of her he said,
Those who believe that a woman
is incapable of makin’ a man
equally happy all the twenty-four
hours of the day have never
known a woman such as her
She was as well read as he
She judged him astutely
No woman so captivated him
None obtained so deep an understandin’
She penetrated his outward shell
But she resisted the temptation
to join her destiny with his
She came to discern
his wanderin’ nature,
his volatile background,
and the precariousness
of his feelin’s
Before he left,
she slipped a letter into his pocket
He would not speak of what it said…
Crestfallen, despondent,
he set off for a tour
of France and Italy
Along the way,
from one town,
from one heart,
to another,
romantic escapades
resemblin’ operatic plots
He settled in Venice,
learned the language
And wrote her letters…
Anything good,
has elements of you
Everything bad,
has an incurred guilt
All the while, a victim
of my senses
A certain delight in goin’
astray and constantly
livin’ in error,
with no other consolation
than that of knowin’
i had erred
watchin’, captivated, you swimmin’
through the waters of yesteryear…
in the hill country river near our house,
in the hidden waterfall fed pool in belize,
in the spring fed horse tank at seven cross…
the way your hair would bloom ‘neath the water
one of my greatest pleasures
© Copyright 2016 Mac Tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved
Today is the birthday of May Sarton (Eleanore Marie Sarton, Wondelgem, Belgium, May 3, 1912 – July 16, 1995 York, Maine); poet, novelist and memoirist. She said;
“I don’t write poems very often and when I do, they come in batches and they always seem to be connected to a woman, in my case, a muse who focuses the world for me and sometimes it’s a love affair and sometimes it’s not.”
“You choose to be a novelist but you’re chosen to be a poet. This is a gift and it’s a tremendous responsibility. You have to be willing to give something terribly intimate and secret of yourself to the world and not care, because you have to believe that what you have to say is important enough.”
“Loneliness is the poverty of self; solitude is richness of self.”
It struggles now alone
Against death and self-doubt,
But underneath the bone
The wings are pushing out.
And I thought of your face that sweeps over me like light,
Like the sun on an apple making a lovely show,
So one seeing it marveled the other night,
Turned to me saying, “What is it in your heart? You glow””…
Not guessing that on my face he saw the singular
Reflection of your grace like fire on snow…
And loved you there.
And today is the birthday of Robert De Niro (Robert Henry De Niro; Syracuse, New York ; May 3, 1922 – May 3, 1993 Manhattan); abstract expressionist painter and the father of actor Robert De Niro.
During the 1970s and 1980s, De Niro exhibited in museums and galleries throughout the United States, including New York, San Francisco, Kansas City, Los Angeles, and Washington, D.C. He taught at several art schools and colleges including the New York Studio School, the Cooper Union, the New School for Social Research and the School of Visual Arts. De Niro was a visiting artist at Michigan State University’s Department of Art in the spring of 1974.
His work is included in several museum collections including: Albright-Knox Art Gallery, Arkansas Arts Center, Brooklyn Museum, Baltimore Museum of Art, The Butler Institute of American Art, Corcoran Gallery of Art, Crocker Art Museum, The Denver Art Museum, The Heckscher Museum of Art, Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, Kansas City Art Institute, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the National Academy Museum, Mint Museum, Parrish Art Museum, Provincetown Art Association and Museum, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Wadsworth Atheneum, Weatherspoon Art Museum, Whitney Museum of American Art, Yale University Art Gallery, and the Yellowstone Art Museum.
Gallery
Woman in red
Dora in Red Dress, 1960
Mac Tag
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