Art

NEURODIVERSE ROMP

(WITH YANG HUI, PASCAL & DURER)

ONE

Feel like I wandered into
Pascal’s Triangle
Me, a rogue number
In my Neurodiverse way
Destroying binomial coefficients
While other numbers roll their
Equivalent to human eyes
They boot me out
And I fall into Yang Hui’s Triangle
Discovered centuries before Pascal’s
The coefficients here
Are more polite
Maybe they’re rolling their eyes
But the number beside me
Suggests I’d be happier
Checking out Yang Hui’s
Magic Square or Circles

TWO

I was so awful at Geometry
Although loving numbers and
The math magic of number 9
But here I am
Welcomed by the Magical All
And I wonder
If we on the Spectrum stepped out of Math
And into the reality of Neurotypicals
If our tribe would find
A benign but blind group
Who never roll their disdainful eyes
But do try
To accept
Our contact
How would that be…?

THREE

Then I sigh
Remembering Albrecht Durer’s
Melencolia I
His woodcut always stuck with me
Because could swear he used my mother’s face
As model for his sad winged woman
(My artist crush never displaced)
And I look at the Magic Square on the wall
Adding up to thirty-four
Yang Hui’s centuries before
And the hopelessness
Of fitting the wrong number
Into a perfect Magic Square
And know we’ll never really fit into
The Society we crave
The friends whose
Open or secret condescension
Surfaces when we try to behave
Exactly like them…

(c) 2018 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: 1514 A. Durer’s Melencolia I / Magic Square / Mission Galactic Freedom

 

albrecht-durer.jpg!Portrait

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SEASONAL CONVERGENCE

Picking my way through the swamp
Stomping in useless suede cloth boots
Sand spurs sticking to tights
Shouting to warn unbrumating snakes
All for the picture
And the metaphor
Of seeing the palm tree
Juxtaposed with the Queen Anne’s Lace
But by the time I hike into the
Out of control greens and browns
Hang up my guitar for the arty effect
The photo just isn’t there
At least not by phone camera
That I swear has no zoom-in
The sun hovers between East and South
Washing out the white flowers
If I move forward
The deep swamp will suck me down
It’s not really evil
Just has a sense of humor
And I seem to be the only one fascinated
With its loveliness
So I make it two photos
But the poem in my mind
Is gone
The metaphor was
The convergence of seasons
Palm tree
That never lost its greenery
Because of the warm winter
Queen Anne’s Lace
So Philly and Jersey summer
From my youth
The only flowers
Besides the Sunflower
That I’d occasionally see
In the concrete city
North meets South
Spring meets Summer
No, better go
Before the Water Moccasins
Slither over
And in May
The gators walk all day
Looking to mate
Bad enough a Blue Jay
Almost crashed into me
On my elliptical
This morning, outside
Pedaling to
Of all tunes
“Florida”

(c) 2018 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGES: My guitar on the swamp palm tree and quasi-invisible Queen Anne’s Lace

 

Queen Anne's Lace in May with arrow

REPERCUSSIONS (Cezanne, Gauguin, Monet, and Van Gogh)

 

Mont Sainte-Victoire breakfast

Strangely snow blinded

Yet able to welcome

Swift arrows of sun

Bowing to the dawn

Espresso early song

Sharpening the appetite

World ceiling almost-bright

 

Tahitian naps under

Sun-sheltered trees

Salt-soddened

Hair and skin

From wild tides

Somnolent sighs

Tasting coconut milk

On sleeping lips

 

Tokyo teas

Jasmine tips the tongue

Cherry Blossom petals

Beneath sandaled feet

Delicate treats

Wooden shelter

By a bridge to nowhere

Into a dreamland of peace

 

Camargue nights

Savoring incarnadine wine

Big Dipper

Capturing hearts

Over a starry Rhone

Following us

As we float home

To rewind the day…

 

(c) 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

gauguin tahiti

 

the-japanese-bridge-claude-monet

 

Starry_Night_Over_the_Rhone

IMPERMANENCE 2

I follow this wonderful WordPress blog that visually records some of the finest street art ever seen.  I noticed a section titled “RIP” and was sad to see that so many of these wonderful paintings are destroyed.  Please see and like Resa’s blog at https://graffitiluxandmurals.com/r-i-p/comment-page-1/#comment-15254

 

Adapted from my poem “IMPERMANENCE” published in Parallel Universe Café and Other Poems 2015

 

We are all merely a Buddhist sand painting

A created, colorful mandala

Years in the making

Seconds in the melding

Of individual grains

With the earth, water, wind and fire

Anicca

Existence is

Transient

Evanescent

Inconstant

I understand the analogy

Just cannot accept it…

 

© 2015 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja) Parallel Universe Café and Other Poems

IMAGE: Even Teenage Vampires Cry (artists unknown)

R.I.P.

 

 

THREE-IN-ONE

You ask the identity of my fantasy man

Hardly hesitating, I reply:

I am his canvas of fecund fields

Pierced by passionate suns

Van Gogh impressions of yellow and green

I am his guitar strings

Played by his tongue

Set on fire and worshiped

As only Hendrix’s music could careen

Along scales never before heard or seen

I am his epic poem of alliterative lines

That old Pagan Beowulf poet

Writer, reciter, loving me

Anonymously

These three

As one

Someday you will come…

woodstock_2-hendrix-playing-with-tongue

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

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WHEN WE MET TODAY (A hypnagogic image)

 

We were lions together

Once standing erect

Dredlockian manes of singed gold

Mingled in the sooty sunlight

Front paws entwined

Walking upright as one

Never to be separated

Until the unavoidable end

Vowing one following the other

To the mysterious portal

But separated

We lost our way

And until today

I did not know…

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

Image: Lions, Chauvet Cave painting, France

SUCCUMBING TO BLACK FRIDAY

Only bought one useless prize

Irresistible when the monitor holds

The entire world bazaar

Unfolding before my eyes

Beckoning me with its wares

One click and it’s mine

At least I succumbed to practicality

A twelve-pack of picks

I don’t use them

I strum with my thumb

But here are twelve miniature paintings

By Vince VG

So let’s see

Can use the Starry Night one

When playing Don McLean’s Vincent

Can use The Bedroom one

When playing Linda Ronstadt’s song

Since the answer to her question

When Will I Be Loved?

Is always “Never”

(That single bed tells it all)

Yes, I can see

Playing and singing with artwork

Between my fingers and thumb

Can be fun

For a day, anyway…

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

 

VINCE & LISA

 

Guess I do like

Star-crazed men

As long as they’re

Super smart

Sapiosexual

(That’s a social media buzz word)

 

So my artist crush is

Vincent Van Gogh

Many of us love him

He’s not the most realistic artist

But certainly owns a

Mysterious soul

Some say someone else

Cut off his ear

Over a woman

I personally don’t care

Enamored with him anyway

 

How nice to see

A modern artist

Who conceived a

Dating service

Of famous faces

He pairs two of my favorite portraits:

 

Although not drop-dead gorgeous

Next to Helen of Troy

La Giaconda

(The Joyful One)

The Mona Lisa

Is considered

An enigmatically beautiful woman

Some say DaVinci drew himself

In drag

They cite head and

Bone structure measurements

But I don’t see it

Not sure if that is the claim

Of proud gay commentators

Or homophobic ones

I personally don’t care

 

I do care why, though

Why do we often

Give our hearts

To those who were

So lost

Centuries ago

Why do we feel one with them

Is it the egotistical

Saviour complex

Like, if only Van Gogh

Had loved me

I would have cherished him

I would have saved him

Oh, Vincent

If only you were here

Or

If only I was there

Rescue me…

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Barry Kite, Aberrant Art

(Thanks to Lisa Rachael for posting pictures)