has walked this scene, I'm sure,
where Djukaric's brushes explain
a metaphysics of old Slavic sky.
The day falls in a sharp angle
across the planes of architecture.
Nostalgia leans a pale rosiness,
and lavender drenches façades.
One wonders what silent offerings
are within that blue-framed door?
Did Sonja somewhere in Novi Sad
enter that door with one gold coin
to purchase a doll for no reason?
Surely Sonja stood considering
a shaggy-haired Adriatic pirate
or a lady in black aspect wooden
or a jester winking his dire irony.
But certainly Sonja spent her gold coin
on a melancholy doll -- "Nikolas Tesla."
His back would protrude a wind-up key
so sparks can arc from carved fingertips!
She bought one doll of oak and dyed wool
and set it on a shelf for midnight perplexing.
She left all the others to weep rotting tears,
and she whispered in leaving, “Time is tragic.”
On this street where rain has been lately,
where strollers are moving through being,
where space is Djukaric watercoloring...
Sonja's ambiance alternates in currents.
A watercolor by Dusan Djukaric.
Copyright © Dusan Djukaric.
Reproduced here with the artist's kind permission.
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