Andrew Wessels

the national gallery

peeling oranges is easy
with my thumb first
in the kitchen facing the window
late winter
sun in the afternoon
i like oranges and i
slay the dragon and
nameplates and a white horse
clog the orange grove
sweet fruits two faces
free the still armor
trampled underneath
your home
as i steal you right now

what is in front of us

i moved::the road is dry and crusty the rains come in the spring and the birds the leaves
let go this hand the burning::a seat five feet from your right next to each other this leaf
falls for hours the sound of a cricket once::tall grasses brushed::let go this hand the
burning::the funny thing is::a daisy is your favorite they grow here::and let go this hand
the burning::the words are ferry water shore button cow and sun::an olive covered with
white wine::the space between beef and cow a matter of taste and cigarettes::let go this
hand the burning::face the crowd straight a show of grace::in this city there is in this city
there is in this city there is::rain on these stones::little red thing when humor collides::an
open door


a biography of time

one hour to the ocean
the hills of sant cugat
the camera the cigarette and the book
the largest rosary window in spain
the cafe and train and white stone
the sandwiches rubbed with tomato
the blue sky and blue water
the man and the many instruments
the small streets and hands
the overgrown garden