oil, ink on canvas
24 x 36 x 1″
Painting en plein air, in Rhinecliff,
on the shore of the Hudson, by the tracks where Lincoln’s death train passed,
I make my humble, everyday watercolor and consider carefully the way
that two lines of infinite length seem to connect on the horizon,
I think of the thousands and thousands of young men who died
all can be equal in America.
I seem to see the ghost of Lincoln, shimmering on the event horizon,
“With the tolling tolling bells’ perpetual clang,
Here, coffin that slowly passes,
I give you my sprig of lilac.” – Walt Whitman
I turn to the East and see an everyday field,
no big stuff, nothing picturesque. My heart is in tears,
exquisite America, I love you.
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