figures (o’er the hills), soliloquy, stage directions
[click to enlarge]
figure [unenumerated]: boreal
ODALISQUE
Midway on life’s journey, the right road lost, I find myself in dark woods
pursued by armed men crying: Nymph! Goddess! Celestial Queen!
They say they are artists.
Their eyes are on me.
They do not presume that my solitary repose is neither for being seen nor to better see them.
(I include the confounding nor: boys, you forget how
pretty you are.)
I will not play hunter, bewitcher, or conquered prey in this interminable masquerade.
Leave me alone. Go away.
(foot fiercely stomped.)
(bows lustily drawn. )
(swift incurable flight. hooves.)
figure 7: boreal (otherwise)
otherwise
summer! swimsuits!! movies!!! frosty beverages!!!!
Greeting fair readers! Summer is around the corner–that corner on the lower right-hand side of your calendar, the one you are about to take between your fingers, lift, tear or turn.
Come summer, odalisques feel far less alien in the world as everyone wears scant clothing and lounges about drinking beverages, staring absent-mindedly and intently (at irregular intervals) into a brazen sky. When the sun is dazzling bright and temperatures escalate, even the most persistent gloom is a refreshing shadow.
This summer, I have some scrapbooking plans. One reader has anonymously asked how I got into my obsidian obelisk. I will try to answer this question by Fall. Other topics planned include MOVIE NIGHTS, a stunning exposé of my SWIMSUIT, and a peek inside my REFRIGERATOR.
The owl approves of these plans, as they include several popular tags: FILM, FASHION, and FOOD, all of which begin with the letter F.
Are there questions you have for an odalisque, or, more specifically, The Odalisque?
Please leave a comment or email me if there are pressing issues you’d like me to wring through my word press. My email address is below, and below that below, you will find the comment area.
Thank you for looking. Thank you.
–The Odalisque
PS: Chatter chatter starlings chatter. Odalisque Odalisque are you going to the sea shore? Am I going to the seashore? Am I? Or does my expectation fly o’er the hills?
portraits: transitive property
Portrait of the Odalisque as a young girl:
Portrait of the young girl as an artist:
Portrait of the artist as odalisque:
today I watched black hairlines of birds craze the white sky
Say you believe this.
\
figures (overwhelm)
Figures [click to enlarge]:
fig. 1
- figures 3, 5, & 22
Early morning
when birds start the grey rustling of their undergarments and dawn spills into its bowl like piss
I look up
like I’ve fallen down stairs.
why does the phoenix want to garb me in fire?
I first asked this question in my post on fashion.
[cued]
( Phoenix: no fear of darkness. darkness/fathoms/fire. journey/easy. it circles/home. ODALISQUE ODALISQUE ODALISQUE/you’re afraid of fire. I bring a light/a match/and strike it. FORGET MYSELF AND WATCH YOU. COLLAPSE/LIKE WAX/COLLAPSES. AROUND AN INTERIOR FLAME.)
fashionable owl!
I forgot the owl!
Owl was not into fashion like the other birds.
Regard Owl, irritated, on the shoulder of an odalisque.
fashionable Owl/contorted Odalisque
fashionable birds part 4
Fourth and final in my series of Immortal Portraits of my FASHIONable friends.
Crow insisted I make the first portrait. I’m sure it’s some kind of trick.
The second portrait is more representative.
Crow approved them both.
crow?
fashionable Crow
(Conversations with crow are indexed in the “Crow” category to your right.)
fashionable birds part 3
Third in a series of Immortal Portraits of my FASHIONable friends.
fashionable phoenix
fashionable starlings
(Conversations with both birds are indexed in the categories to your right.)
fashionable birds part 2
Second in a series of Immortal Portraits of my very FASHIONable friends:
As usual, hawk was torn between el duende and the desire for repose. We went with el duende, I am delighted to say.
trying on repose
fashionable hawk (el duende)
(Conversations with hawk are indexed in the “hawk” category to your right.)
fashionable birds
Sunday I published a post on FASHION. Monday morning, I was abruptly aroused by a commotion. The birds were prodding, poking, mooning at the window, desperate for me to roll over and let them in.
Miffed by their presumptuousness, but now awake, I climbed out of bed to make a small breakfast. I watched the kettle boil (it does happen, but it takes a long long time, as I anticipated), and sat idle for a full six-minute tea steep. I baked a bun from scratch, ate it morsel by morsel, dropping all sorts of desirable crumbs which the birds could not eat. I read my very first piece of mail seven times seven times over. At last, I opened the window.
To a spazzle-dazzle flurry of highly-excited, almost agitated birds.
Apparently, birds are very FASHIONable, a fact I had failed to observe in all my days in the obelisk (though I had noticed the black swan’s exorbitant vanity).
All week damask and leather occlude my view, collars and pantaloons sail over my head, shifts and roses hover mid-air, borne in beaks of birds. Or claws. There are swords in here. Ridiculous stockings. A crook-necked staff? Jewel boxes.
FASHION squawk the birds, preening. REGARD ME.
To appease them, I’m making portraits. Immortal Portraits of my FASHIONable friends, the birds.
REGARD THEM.
First, the black swan, of course:
fashionable black swan
(Conversations with the black swan are indexed in the “Black Swan” category to your right.)
I am the odalisque who lives in an obelisk. I converse with birds.
