Waldo Alarkon in 2012: Some Painting

From the Page of Shannon Phillips. Thank you.: The Kiss

The Kiss
by Gustav Klimt
(1907-1908)

"Short Story on a Painting of Gustav Klimt" by Lawrence Ferlinghetti (1976)

They are kneeling upright on a flowered bed    He      has just caught her there                                 and holds her still      Her gown                   has slipped down                                             off her shoulder  He has an urgent hunger                        His dark head                                   bends to hers                                              hungrily  And the woman the woman      turns her tangerine lips from his             one hand like the head of a dead swan                     draped down over                                                  his heavy neck                          the fingers                              strangely crimped                                           tightly together          her other arm doubled up                       against her tight breast              her hand a languid claw                                            clutching his hand                  which would turn her mouth                                                            to his          her long dress made                                 of multicolored blossoms                                          quilted on gold          her Titian hair                        with blue stars in it         And his gold                            harlequin robe                                               checkered with                                                          dark squares         Gold garlands                        stream down over                                                her bare calves &                                                    tensed feet  Nearby there must be                a jeweled tree                       with glass leaves aglitter                           in the gold air  It must be                 morning                              in a faraway place somewhere  They         are silent together                                    as in a flowered field             upon the summer couch                                    which must be hers     And he holds her still                                     so passionately           holds her head to his                                  so gently so insistently               to make her turn                                   her lips to his  Her eyes are closed                                 like folded petals  She        will not open                           He                                is not the One     5      10      15      20      25      30      35      40      45      50      55      60

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