From the north forty 'while back, and hung it,
With other parts from out th' barn 'bout a mile,
Hung them on the side of the old cedar shed.
Months later, left to weather, rust, dust,
Burrowing insects, summer sunlight,
That skull became new art begging a record
On film, or to be preserved in paint, type, or ink
For others who appreciate form and consequence
From found objects.
It is the mystique of origin, solidarity of bone-depth
Dimension, seduction of primal shapes, line and color
That provokes the soul of the artist,
Inspires a need to know what's felt about
A mere skeleton, tank lid, plow blade, cedar post.
To record in one image apparent past and present
Showing what was, and may yet be for all living things,
These objects having existed beyond their usefulness,
Becomes the heavy subject matter
Of your poems and her paintings.
For Poet Jane Schneeloch, Springfield, MA, & her skilled tribute to Artist Georgia O'Keeffe