Something felt beyond the brushstrokes by a boy and, in a man, remains still. Recalled, in each passionate mess of skin and limbs.


I have never considered her to be or to have been, only a gathering of paint which served to acquaint a boy with the exposed female form.


Owan Wllimsi a i


Landscape with Cows


Hip-humping on the baked-earth track they go, a bovine symphony of movement, its unity of theme their single-filed direction, individually expressed in the contrapuntal motion of their bodies’ parts. Their cloven hooves on plodding, piston-legs reciprocate; udders heavy, swaying pendulously, rolling full; likewise, their tails swing easily at rest, each one dependent from each skewbald rump, yet poised to swish fly-whiskingly across each midge-inflicted back. One turns her head, impassively regards her stark, dark partner, projected on the grass, on station with her steady progress by her side, inexorably increasing its distorted length so soon with each passed minute of the arid afternoon.


13


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