jj jackman in the midst of seven - index
l’etelage 5/04/00 each poem is like a wrought iron candle stick with a small pinnacle staging displaying one important central thought a gem in my little museum some mounts are twisted inlayed with floral garlands on brass though rigid not just for a short time erect then spewing an intermittent cascading pearlescent white and clear liquid some under the “L” in the computer keyboard some on the magenta rug some flowing in the midst of a stiff spherical matrix of hair not just for a short time erupting then going limp like a furtive thief bent over after a crime but on these mounts in little cubicle Plexiglas cages are showpiece jewels that yearn to live forever oh these settings have their merit some of gold lapped keys relieved in contorted double helix cords rising to a small upper setting some are file chiseled granite candelabra not left incomplete like certain slabs (was Michelangelo his real name? did he invent stardom? swaggering in front of la basilica di San Marco staggering then falling near the scalloped tip of a black boat before he hit the muddy murky dark wine colored salami-emitting-pulsating-circles-of-grease water) but alas the resting place that holds La Pieta passion perfecta a work that stands alone suspended in eternity one jewel one concept central firm overwhelming poignant poised upon a staging a small great work un’opera piccola no bigger nunche piu grande than a multifaceted emerald with all the orchestration of il barbiere di Seviglia and the cast of Ben Hur and the choreography of the Manhattan Dance Project enduring not evanescent everlasting not just for a short time erect then spewing an intermittent cascading pearlescent white and clear liquid some under the “L” in the computer keyboard some on the magenta rug some flowing in the midst of a stiff spherical matrix of hair not just for a short time erupting then going limp