Le Pont des Arts, 1907
in 1907 girders were made
curved to span a river in
tempered sprung, perched
across pillars, a taut hold
of tonnage letting the
frozen strain of arched
air through which to sea,
allowing the first parting
for cream sunlight to
wash the quays a new day,
holding up ridiculous Way
for passers-over blown
full against over-clothes
regalia by the fithery grey
sky preparing lemon
The Louvre in a Thunderstorm, 1909
the mansard roofs were sullen
right up to their windows, even the
Pont du Carrousel was brooding, begrudging,
still, its continued expanse; but
the trees were aflame in anticipation, they
have always breathed the scape of sky
to ascertain continued combustion, never
cursed it to a line, however stylish
Le Pont Royal, 1909
the thing is: the morning sun
which meets the facades face
on and sculpts them – fine-
hewn – into their architecture
and makes the bare trees into
manly veins, is not brought
by the bridge despite all its
pedestrian traffic to work
Soir Bleu, 1914
what does that clown
sat at the table with
cigarette oblivious
to blood-wounded eyes?
my goodness, I hadn’t
noticed, sat here with
only a towel to wear,
no wonder I cannot drink
I
am a Chinese lantern made
flesh immaculate borne of the
minds of my un-talking parents
sat before a clown with empty carafe
me, I could paint a picture of this all
but the hills are dark behind my mind
and roll downstream continuously
out of frame
Triptych 0
Evening Wind, 1921
ahhh,
I have
washed
the bed
is open
and cold
I shall
dry my
self in
the air
of town
and breathe
the scent
of stone
and paint
work port-
al to dream
where the
work can
continue
all night
with vigour
Railway Crossing, c. 1922-23
so it is always the latent light
transmitted through cloud
or orbit that depicts manufacture
from function to dimension,
from light to not light in all degrees
of plane and completed form,
novel from the slow trees and grass
that know no distinction but the
quantum happenstance
of air and reach, but no way
House by the Railroad, 1925
now the sides go up
yes the sides go up
and the columns come down
yes the columns come down
and the windows look out
yes the windows look out
and the windows let in
yes the windows let in
and the ledges stick out
yes the ledges stick out
and the roofs step up
yes the roofs step up
and the shadows cast depth
yes the shadows cast depth
all cushioned by the sleepers
all cushioned by the sleepers
of the track track track … annnd
Drug Store, 1927
Silbers Pharmacy
attractive as a Hindu shrine
apothecary of light
key to laxation
at the sound of coin
on glass-top counter
on the corner in the heart
of sandstone city
shadows etched into
its uprights and lintel
red and orange-pink
phial, green and turning
blue-black phial
Triptych 1
Automat, 1927
and so it came to evening
where all outside became
the dark of window
zipped by serried flanks of light
held in time
for tea – for long moments
gone cold while last thoughts
echoed back through canyons
of event
Triptych 2
Chop Suey, 1929
it wasn’t until late morning
the following two years later
when she sat alone at the table
washed ghastly in the daylight
that she raised her eyes at last to
recognise what had happened
Triptych 3
but then it was a further
two years until she found
herself half dressed between
lifetimes marked between the
pages of a book found in the
Hotel Room, in 1931, so long
since the promise of the evening
wind ten years earlier when she
could stand to have the lights
out
New York, New Haven and Hartford, 1931
morning sun appears in fat fingers along the
railway track, along the lawn getting somewhere:
it fringes the finials of the trees and brush
phlanged in all directions but splats façade-
on and aspectedly against the sited house for
decades reaching 3D chimneys high to the sky
Compartment C, Car 193, 1938
the woman reading
in the compartment
was a student of pivot
and cross-reference;
while the trajectory
paralleled the river,
it bisected the bridge
at sunset: the light
to read came not
from the lamp but
the heightened pers-
pective of traverse
New York Movie, 1939
the column must be carved and grandiose-
enough to hold the height of proscenium
despite the worried contemplations of the
usherette that it is colossal-enough for the
lost horizons washed grainy across the screen
for she has watched it ten times or more
Office at Night, 1940
you cannot see your own eyes while looking
or your face when working late
macabre with its daylight paint
because the light across the wall from the street
will not work its way over the room
only the blind will lean
inwards
slightly and
briefly
Summertime, 1943
all the stucco, ledge
and column waiting
patient for the age to
come its rightful time
will mark the vigil
but once a year when
door is paused and
window opened to
draw a single breath
won – der – ing
Morning in a City, 1944
in the height of a room
with no ceiling, it’s alright,
it’s alright to stand naked
before the window and be
the first to let the tilt of
sunlight through lucent
green form every ligament
poise and fold up from some
groggy horizontal; the blinds
across the way are half-
pulled and unconcerned
staring vaguely downward
El Palacio, 1946
the perpendicular signage
plainly black and red
in the dirty daylight
and the tall windows
and doorways down
the street with their
proud back-painted
balcony rails looking
out over empty flat-
roof streets one floor
up, submerged before
the mountains under
unrelenting pressure
of the blue and grey
sky so that distance
is sharper than the
foreground in all of
its vague detail
Seven A.M, 1948
too early to open,
the shadow off the clock
is too long
the trees at
the edges of nightmare
have yet to release
the light worries
the door handle and would
feign entry already
but the
conspiracy is deep, as
dimension takes a right angle
Office in a Small City, 1953
sitting back in his chair
the architect, exhausted
by the detail of the past,
sits in the building he has
not yet finished designing
but satisfied, at least, with the windows
Western Motel, 1957
she turned, shoulder-frozen
and foot-crippled, ‘what, now?’,
as the setting sun reached
the bare tree branch across
a mesa landscape
no
ne
ed
to
an
sw
er,
the shadows are set
square and boxed
mlewisredford 