An elephant’s eye, floating out there in the prairies of Oklahoma. A lonely buffalo grazing, fenced into a large but finite pasture. No memories of ancestors handed down and giving no regard to fossils under its hooves.
The scent of melting butter and sugar being mixed in a jade green bowl that survived the Depression and Recession. The words “Greek debt” seem to have no awareness of a debt to Plato or Socrates or even Cavafy. Little floating candles drifting out into the fog and never to return. An ocean full of empty row boats insisting that their mysteries by solved if we dare. ”Green help up against that elephant’s eye, a dash of marigold and grape lip balm make for an awkward afternoon. Bits of chunky memories are mixed into the buckets of paint and will dry and embed into the walls until they are sanded down years later and are replaced by more gilded appointments on this stage whose player has left, holding a crimson taper against a mustard green sky.