Epilogue



Jolie Laide

There she hangs, his masterpiece and her own,

Immortalised in paint, painted over until,

A finished moment masks all that went before.


This Jolie Laide, new illusion of truth,

breaks the old mirror of imagined beauty and,

Up rise a confluence of feelings


As we stand before it.

The Incidence

  of war yesterday we went to war to rid the world of want filling coffers with oil  vast vats grains dark powders spice life water and wine...