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
aluminium
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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