Friday, 11 September 2015

Amazing sequence from 'Selfies' section of 'Legacy' by Klaus Høeck

       the only oil paint
ing that exists with me as
       a motif lay for

       many years with the
picture surface downwards un
       der an ottoman

       (put in the doghouse)
after all you can’t have your
       self hanging on a

       wall in your own home
monitoring everything
       that is taking place

       my head pops up in
the picture against a sky
       of green chirico

       as a contrast to
the gasometer from øst
       re gasværk where a

       guardian angel
of marble stands guard over
       me there are scratches

       and crackles in the
paint and behind the canvas
       a pulse is beating

       self-portrait with a
mini-pancake pan made of
       copper self-portrait

       with heinz tomato
ketchup self-portrait with lent
       barrel self-portrait

       with elastoplast
self-portrait with papercut
       ting of the derby

       winner patricia
garbo self-portrait with a
       painting of myself

       later the portrait
stood wrapped up in black plas
       tic like a deep and

       profound secret in
a toolshed – it was painted
       by bispelund knud

       sen sometime in the
nineteen seventies and at
       it can now be found

       in the portrait col
lection depot at frede
       riksborg museum

       i place a copy
of myself at the foot of
       a large copper beech
       tree in stingsted sko
ven (there where the former small
       holding still stands) so
       that i can ima
gine to myself that i can
       hear the night wind in
       side my own head as
something different and more
       than just a gimmick

       a second copy
of the same picture i wrap
       up in a piece of
foil along with one of the
       thirty-two heartstones
       and throw it into
the sea at fogense not
       only so that i
       can sleep together
with the fishes – listen – how
       deep is the poem?

       a third copy i
set fire to on the neighbour’s
       garden bonfire u
       nite my likeness with
hawthorn and poplar with smoke
       fire and ashes
       that fly off across
the spring fields in a stunt that
       perhaps asserts the
       very resurrec
tion or the recycling of
       the poem itself

       then all i’m lacking
is earth – but that’s easy e
       nough i dig a coup
       le of spits down in
heartland and then place the fi
       nal copy of the
       portrait (the poem
as a whole in the ground) the
       exact gps coor
       dinates only to
be published at a later
       date (after my death)

       the original
can still be seen but i won’t
       tell you where you’ll have
       to find it for your
self if you’ve the time and in
       clination as with
       all poetry but
the code word’s: köpenhamn and
       the year seventy
       eight where i look up
at you with an inscruta
       ble gaze from the dark

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