Wednesday, March 3, 2010

L'Origine du Monde, 1866

From dusted shaft, Courbet emerges,
fingers pearl and slick.
Around his head, a crown of flesh:
spectral-memory of his start,
his first bloody breath.
Hand raised to paint him back
through opening thicket, tangled black.


The Scrybe said...

Brilliant, and I love that painting :)

Francis Scudellari said...

I wasn't familiar with the painting, but I love how your words take inspiration from it, especially the concluding two lines.

Jenny said...

"Around his head, a crown of flesh:
spectral-memory of his start,
his first bloody breath."

Brilliant, Megan! Dense and colorful poem.

Obsidian Eagle said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Obsidian Eagle said...

I too was unfamiliar with the painting, but am equally taken aback by it and the pretty much every line of this poem. Fantastic fusion!

- ItzQuauhtli, Herald of Quetzalcoatl

Ande said...

A superb portrait of a painting.

Megan Duffy said...

Thank you all. Your comments mean so much to me. You are all such brilliant poets!

I am not fully happy with this poem as it is now. I am going to post a revision over at my place.

I don't like the word "poised." I have a hard time imagining Courbet allowing himself to be poised when he painted. But who knows?

Megan Duffy said...

Just made a little change here as well. So great that we can edit work on this site.

human being said...


i re-paint the world when i look at you

i re-write the world when i think of you


Anonymous said...

I love this poem and the painting, but your poem is a painting in itself