GENIUS died .

"can you play?"
across from me she sat, tea cupped lightly in her lemon palms. momentary eyes.

shall I let her sleep? my breath comes slow. she is on the floor, unironed. i roll my head against the wall. a pillow now is in my
lap. she has a hole in her, i think, rumpled on the floor. the years are gone (the knocks upon the door, no more; the
preconsiderations, equations, now just whispers on the floor.) i am disabled from a holy war.

i lay me now unsewn upon the floor.

more.

once the sea grew cold and walls protected every cell. now, a million years, a replicating swell. we are survivors in a shell. i
know how. i sit secure, snugly in my well; the accumulation, the ration, all. (robotic, unreal, reactionless; rotary run on a
circular track, a soundless tick, an eclectic clack.)

a rival in departure.

when thunder rolls, i stare and cannot say exactly where the lightning was. that is least; at most i am peninsular, seawrought,
chambermade, shellfish--still the oyster with the pearl. it's all i have, take it.

driven by the substitution silent cry, willfulness in vain. vanity twisted in time to surfacing scurrility--look at me!

it cries beyond her. in her, she knows, in her, swollen in her. in her smiles she knows, in her. in her dissolution she knows. in
her descent and disorganizaton she gives cause and certainty. but i have better things to do.

so i cradle this, my immaculate conception, the beacon fire of my end. while i add i ask, "is subtraction the only myth?."

forgive me please i am yet not in control.

the allfull wish is welled. my god! there is secretion in the well. what is left for the imitator? she is beyond herself, all ways.

there is a single souless certainty. i am the solitary eye.

certainty alone, worshipped oh, so artfully; civilization i have built on displaced desire. while she swells i have better things to
do.

"can you play?"

her beyond at now within her eyes at me.

"can you play?" she replayed across from me.

i am dizzy. i live with my last breath. there it is! the child grows wings, discards its chrysalis and flies, before the myth of
subtraction tears the wings from it's mind.

i fall like a stone. i cry. why? trembling now in random mess. driven to reversals lie. universals to control, i try, faced with
entropy's wailing sigh.

"can you play?"

__jeffrey jones

http://ruby.an

MEN AND WOMEN IN ART, the can of worms, eh? The artist was Mary Cassatt, and Degas, upon seeing her work declared, "She draws like a
man!" Well, there is good drawing and not so good drawing. Gender makes no difference. However... there is an educational theory that states
on the whole men are better at physics than women. First, there are more men in the physics field than women. Why? That is one question. The
accepted theory is that from a very young age men are more likely to become physically intuitive than women because of their early desires to
throw rocks at each other (trajectory consciousness), hit each other (spatial relationships) etc. There are also more male pilots, sports figures --
in fact in most all hobbies and occupations having to do with the space we live in. There are, probably, and have always been, more male artists.
(though chauvinism and defensiveness is what puts more men into museums). Art though, and this is another question, I think, is much more
primal than the above stuff. Basically, the survival of our species depends on procreativity and creativity. Most animals don't need the
"creativity" part, but humans are pretty inefficient at coping with their teeth and claws. Early on, men, with a built-in envy of the purpose and
certainty of a woman leaving something of herself behind-a man can't be so sure the baby is his-scratched, in anger and displacement, a gouge on
a cave wall. He KNEW he did this! He created it. Obsessive creativity is primarily a masculine trait. My 1972 POEM, which to my peace and
serenity no one has ever asked me to explain (I fear villagers with torches coming up my driveway), can be seen at: 'poem' on the 'contents'
page. Men, to insure their chances of leaving something of themselves behind, also demand a woman take their name, put a great value on
intercourse with virgins, make the laws against rape sometimes as severe as murder, call God a "He" (the Creator), and give a double standard to
infidelity. A "man's world" has everything to do with this anxiety. Not to a tug unnerves me and the wash of some ethat year.

AUTOBIOGRAPHY LINK- - -
http://www.jeffreyjones-art.com/autobiography.html

( WORTH the read )

brilliant -"how like a shining star, . . . . ."
http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Rf9S3GkkeyI/THEao46gxwI/AAAAAAAAfWg/XhvOOBZ0HGY/s1600/...

artist. there is NO higher compliment
http://www.jeffreyjones-art.com/sitebuilder/images/descent3-623x980.jpg

( by the way,....by way of editorial addition,.....YES,....he/she ,...WAS the BEST. )

http://www.jeffreyjones-art.com/sitebuilder/images/thewall_2-901x391.jpg

WORK,....if its TRUE to the self,...............e v o l v e s,.....
as does a life.

LINK- - -
http://www.jeffreyjones-art.com/theartist.html

care.