Appetite

Two for Dubuffet:

34 Two for Dubuffet: “Le Voyageur égaré” On his sable nocturnal soil man stands gaunt and lean solitarily erected; his universe and dwelling lie flat on the mapped canvas. From the framed square of a lank house a woman, wife and mother of all, waves her match-like arms at this death-womb bound traveller. A handful of hieroglyphics, hectic collection of cryptic signs spattered against dawn. Over the surrounding hills the sun already traces numerous hollering directions his path may goad him. O bewildered seer! Cowed with consternation your stitched and pursed lips infringe a sour smile. In a moment of arrest your arm crosses your chest. Dawn approximating the moment of your cruder birth gilds the cobbles with the glare of your last rolling happy penny! 35 “La Route aux hommes” In life of green cows watch the future of their flesh grow in the grass, contemplate small men walking or biking along the serpentine road. Behind the cows’ eyes lies another landscape green as cud, a slow Eden. Sleepiness dangles from their bellies. Marking the equation of the day, the men pass by, visit mornings and evenings and go back to the unknown. Home when you push the door, you find the table laid. In a white plate a steak with its sinewy eye, staring white, white & blank, as a cow’s last judgement. For the moment, men still pass, their hunger tight in their stomachs, sour with envy, fingers shining the small change in their pockets. ...