{"id":2494,"date":"2021-12-06T08:00:00","date_gmt":"2021-12-06T07:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/?p=2494"},"modified":"2021-12-05T21:57:05","modified_gmt":"2021-12-05T20:57:05","slug":"frame-seven-abstract-sonnets","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/2021\/12\/frame-seven-abstract-sonnets\/","title":{"rendered":"FRAME: SEVEN ABSTRACT SONNETS"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Author<\/strong>: Victor Joyet

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I am the end of everyone  the last man \nIt doesn\u2019t matter if it now comes to an \nend It\u2019s good for everyone to be dead \nsometimes      good to be alive    again \nI will dance on the wire and people will \nbe amazed I\u2019ll crosswalk the air and the \nlight dance on the wire until I die and \ndance on the wire one more time \n\n                    I shall smoke the last cigarette \nbutt       inhale the last breath of poison \nlook around the hexagram of the heaven \nclose my eyes and let the sun shine red \nbehind \n                    one last time<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
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<\/p>\n\n\n\n
II.  <\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n
                                                            Nonday morning \n                   Smoke on the verge of eternity \nAlone in \n                      the dead-end street world \nEvery day and every year the same stuff on TV \nThe Internet is choke-full of brags and misery \nAnd I just don\u2019t care \nI don\u2019t wanna spend the night on air \nRuminating that avant-garde cinema dream \nI keep thinking                                there is \nno music on a dead plane \n\u201cI used to blackmail the night just to get some \nsleep\u201d was what you used to say \nBut you ended up talking to yourself<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
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<\/p>\n\n\n\n
III.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n
Words to be thought words to be said words \nto be sung and words to whisper God\u2019s \nlanguage is still to be found fashioned and \nheard down there on Earth down there on the \nground there is no church and no temple down \nthere on Earth down there on the ground \nbone machines and articulated minds \nmortal spirits without any idea of time \n\nDown there on Earth down there on the ground \nfor the first time shall I tread \nCrossing my arms I\u2019m facing the man \nThis is the only prayer I mean to utter \nThis\u2019ll be the only time \n                                                      I look into your eyes<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
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<\/p>\n\n\n\n
IV.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n
I used to walk around so much I used to go \nnowhere at all I grew aimless and shameless \nSoared over the ocean and through the rain \nMy senses sharpened the distance between \nthe world and my eye narrowed seeing and \nbeing became one single gesture and losing \nmy gaze into the above skyway whenever I \nsaw a star I\u2019d wonder if it were dead or alive \nI\u2019d wandered and wandered got so stinky and \nso filthy and so soiled that when I looked into \nthe mirror I saw a man I\u2019d never seen in me \nLost      absorbed                           life-washed \n              That was just another me \n            I didn\u2019t know then but I\u2019d started anew<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
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<\/p>\n\n\n\n
V.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n
As open skies we moved\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026...\nFrom a wing to another\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026..\nSkull and limbs all exposed\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026.\nWe needed nothing\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026...\nBareheaded and free\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026...\n\u2026We needed nothing\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026...\n\u2026Toward eternity\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026....\n\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026...\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026....\n\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026...\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026....\n\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026...\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026....\n\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026...\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026....\n\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026...\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026....\n\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026...\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026....\n\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026...\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026....<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
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<\/p>\n\n\n\n
VI.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n
Behold the fireflies of the mind in pieces all the \ncolors of thoughts in motion across the scenery \nof the allegorical meaning of yourself the crazy \ngeography of heaven\u2019s truthful sin \nThese are roads painted on the canals of your \nvanishing body the idle image of a world gone \nmad roads that\u2019ll take you into your own country \nwhere seasons and hours are landscaped into the \nmirror of your self \n                                              Now the silence will shatter \nfrom the sounds inside your brain this is the birth \nof the eighth day \n                                         Thusness widespread on the \nplanispheric memory of a day forever forgotten<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
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<\/p>\n\n\n\n
VII. <\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n
When will I be taken away? How will I be taken \naway from it all? What for a manner is to draw \nsomeone away like that from their friends family \ncats books clothes and whatsoever that holds \ntogether the pieces of one\u2019s very own private self \nwithout any warning just like that gone as a dart \nthrough the classroom of time? \n\nSuddenly I feel so afraid when I think of death \n22 only yet I feel so old when surreptitiously \nI grow conscious of my own mortality \n22 still alive When will I trespass? When will I \nmeet my other self? 22 still alive thinking of my \nfriends wondering who\u2019ll be the first one to die \nthe first we\u2019ll have to cry our hearts out for<\/pre>\n\n\n\n




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Editor’s Not<\/em><\/strong>e<\/strong>: Associated Artwork<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n
Below you may find a list of artwork which this piece’s author associated with each sonnet. As some were protected under copyright, they were not included directly on this page. However, you may refer to the following links as you read the sonnets:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I. 
<\/strong>Mark Rothko, Orange and Yellow<\/em>, 1956, 232.4 x 181.3 cm, Albright-Knox Art Gallery, Buffalo, New York: Orange and Yellow, 1956 – Mark Rothko – WikiArt.org<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n
II. <\/strong>
Franz Kline, Suspended<\/em>, 1953, USA: Suspended, 1953 – Franz Kline – WikiArt.org<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n
III. <\/strong>
Mark Rothko, Light over Deep<\/em>, 1956, 139.7 x 111.8 cm, Collection of Rita and Toby Schreiber: Light over Deep 1956 Painting By Mark Rothko – Reproduction Gallery (reproduction-gallery.com)<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n
IV. <\/strong>
Gerhard Richter, Cage 2<\/em>, 2006, 300 x 300 cm: Gerhard Richter: Cage Paintings, 541 West 24th Street, New York, April 19\u2013June 26, 2021 | Gagosian<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n
V. <\/strong>
Yves Klein, Monogold<\/em> (MG 18), 1961, 77.9 x 56 cm, Museum Ludwig, Cologne, Germany:  \u0152uvres – Monogold sans titre – Yves Klein<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n
VI. <\/strong>
Franz Kline, King Oliver<\/em>, 1958, 251.4 x 196.8 cm, private owner: Franz Kline (1910-1962) (christies.com)<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n
VII. <\/strong>
Mark Rothko, UNTITLED<\/em>, 1963: 5a2007bf2e81a47f8657e4ec7f94b164_large.jpg (1500\u00d71500) (touchofmodern.com)<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Author: Victor Joyet I. I am the end of everyone the last man It doesn\u2019t matter if it now comes to an end It\u2019s good for everyone to be dead sometimes good to be alive again I will dance on the wire and people will be amazed I\u2019ll crosswalk the air and the light dance […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1002366,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_seopress_robots_primary_cat":"","_seopress_titles_title":"","_seopress_titles_desc":"","_seopress_robots_index":"","footnotes":"","_links_to":"","_links_to_target":""},"categories":[68],"tags":[36],"class_list":{"0":"post-2494","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-2021-winter","7":"tag-poetry"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2494","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1002366"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2494"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2494\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2494"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2494"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2494"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}