David posted a wonderful piece of his digital art today on Edward
Hopper. I love the strong simplicity of Hopper's work. It's so very
American and exudes a certain serenity. I've seen Nighthawks at
The Art Institute of Chicago and it brings to mind a poem I read
this week by Daniel Lusk.
Old men who eat alone in small cafes
arrange the silver carefully
beside the plate.
It crawls inside their cuffs
and edges out again along their templates
and the gothic arches of their brows.
Arranging is the life
Old men check their watches
lest the sand run out unnoticed
onto the table by the water glass.
Their hands flutter
over the fork and spoon again, the knife,
as if the knife were a lost opportunity
or a love that might be set to rights.
Attentive as they are to these
I suspect if they let go
they'll belly up with loneliness
and float off toward the ceiling fans
in all these small cafes
where I sit watching, hours on end,
to learn their little order,