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on a visit to the Museo del Prado
I saw and El Greco man
in the museum today, dangling
gangling
arms…
I saw pictures of flying
gods swarming like all the monkeys
of Oz… pictures of
conquistadors
in gilt frames
on guilty walls… genocidal nazis, yes, but
for all of that tough sons of bitches
in gray painted grieves reflecting
specks of
16th Century light… imagine that light
hopping like a rabbit down mullioned halls,
vaulting
through vast webs
of empty and black painted space…
a woman with a face like a seashell
closed a shutter to keep the evening sun from touching
the wall… imagine…
I heard a voice crying out
in English… too loud
in
the echoing galleries… cursing…
I hoped it was not my voice…
I hoped it was not my bloody hands
tearing at the gray painted
shackles
of light
and time…
Norman Olson is a 59 poet, artist and civil service worker.
Since publishing his first poem in 1984, after many years of submission and rejection, he has
published hundreds of poems and drawings in 15 countries and all over the USA. He worked
in a factory printing telephone books from 1968 to 1988 and since then has worked at civil service clerical jobs.
Email: Norman Olson
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