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AND THE SWEAT ON THE BROW OF CHARING CROSS ROAD
Art is a sprang direct from the mind I presume Livingstone don’t hold a road pose. Its
spring founts are the word for self not in relation to lumbago youth sex or madonnas but
but but-but-but the solo statement in sit you in-sit-uuu you-you-you the visual knack to
carry it. This may be double dutch to you but it’s treble to me. Not dutch dutch or
vermeer dutch Franz Hals or middle-ages amazingly constitutional art hickory. That
vulture food connoisseurs my lazi-sufaire. That Chiaroscura here I come. When the very
sun rose with Chiriasco and wax apples basked in it. And its hangover lingers on. But the
brow now puzzled I hope.
© Len Lye
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