For Victor Galliano

at a posthumous exhibition of his paintings
depicting the Book of Revelation

Fly, fly as a bird, as a bird in a hall of colour,
colour in frames and out of frame – a space in time
and out of time peopled with images from God.
The black hole of the sun; an eagle there and crying;
the blue-fade peace of the heavens;
the Word on a charger of white – a torrent of voices –
blue faces, green harlot, geometrical lightning, eyes, mouths,
fish-skeletons. Fly Victor fly in anger and delight
direct of God . . . the wildness of your Book of Revelation.
We are held here on the tenth of November among the 48 frames
that permit the World of Heaven that soared at the beginning of time
to steady and dazzle in the Parish Hall. Fly
fly as a bird – you will never be still
while your pictures yell praise silently point
sing God’s Word and are. About, and about,
wheeling in the heaven of night

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