Cynthia Sailers

Something About Jane Freilicher

Small faces lined above the hierarchical sea.
The way of breaking up music on a calm
Morning. It is as if one says, there are no
Blue bananas until we paint one.
The new yellow curtains are meant to be a sign.
Where spit bugs have doppled their official headlines:
You always want to buy her a cake for her birthday
And you don't always wait till she asks you.
As with Bugs Bunny "you are getting sweepy"
Chasing wild game. A painting on both sides,
We walked down these hallways. The only method
Is war now that we are no longer ourselves
Or the comedian of this picture. I'd like to share
A moment with you who paints for me
What might be different. I can't explain it.
From childhood too much matters.
A woman and her double view the image
Overhead. We do not question the source
Like where the paint cans come from. Or the water,
The lake in the corner of the diorama.
The public must continue with naturalism.
Across a map of countries yet to come
I think there is a salad bar, your argument,
Has nothing to do with ideology. If she paints the sea,
The seascape had better be forgotten.