O'Keeffe

Days in a Life

C. S. Merrill

• Publisher: UNM Press
• Year: 2014
• Print ISBN: 9780826354204
• eBook ISBN: 9780826354211
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: American Poetry
• Index: Literature

“Carol Merrill’s tribute to Georgia O’Keeffe is poems in the shape of finely rendered sketches, some of them even paintings. These intimate images convey the delicate and tough shape of O’Keeffe’s final years in New Mexico.”—Joy Harjo, author of She Had Some Horses

“When I got O’Keeffe mss I sat down after midnite at kitchen table when I should’ve been in bed & read it thru in an hour because it was interesting, curious, distinctive, focused, condensed, epiphanous, ordinary & understandable. The details are all, sacramentalizing everyday life in a world of genius—a woman, vast space, chewy intelligence, almost selfless observation.”—Allen Ginsberg, author of Howl

1

The roofless room with vigas and screen

two gigantic jade trees in pots.

Against the far wall a slight niche

with a huge black rock there.

On the whole white wall, a slight shadow

and that rock. O’Keeffe’s sight so poor

she doesn’t see it, but knows it’s there.

Also one moonflower plant blooming wide open

and onions drying on screens, fragrance of earth.

August, 1973

2

O’Keeffe at lunch, the table her design

patty pan squash & zucchini lightly steamed

carrots cooked in butter & dill;

home-baked bread with sunflower seeds

thinly sliced roast beef, chipped ice in glasses

with raspberry juice and mint tea.

In the center a large glass bowl

with an enormous pink hibiscus flower

floating with a green sprig of tansy

“good for a miscarriage,” O’Keeffe said

talking of herbs for female parts.

In the roofless room trumpet flower blooming.

August, 1973

3

O’Keeffe used to go

to the Lawrence Ranch

before Frieda died.

Trees have grown

and the view is

not so full

as it used to be.

She used to rest

under one tree,

spent much time

looking up through branches

her head by the trunk.

August, 1973

4

O’Keeffe loved

a silk kimono

she wore so much

there was a hole

in the seat of it;

patched it

with a satin patch,

wore a hole

in that.

Couldn’t bring herself

to patch the patch.

“You know . . .

glad we were young

when we were,

wouldn’t want to be these days.”

August, 1973

5

O’Keeffe lost her eyesight slowly

in a store in Santa Fe

walked out to a dim day

surprised the day was overcast.

Next day was overcast, but it wasn’t;

that was how it started, a bloodclot

so she has to look to one side to see.

September, 1973

6

One worker came to the sliding door

long hair, mustache, and a little slumped

asked to trim Russian Olive hedge.

She said no at first, then yes.

He said in a slow sentence

the great painter should not

scuff around in unpolished shoes.

He oiled & polished her worn flats,

they shined, slick, like new.

September, 1973

7

O’Keeffe empties the sleeve

of her Chinese coat of fuzz

“My opinion is not worth much”

I pick the fuzz off her coat.

We walk round the driveway

in Abiquiu, so many times

make a mile, the light faded,

she gestures to the mesa

behind the house, “Let’s go in now.

The magic is gone.

It will be chilly soon.”

We lock all the doors together.

September, 1973

8

Light supper at Abiquiu

with O’Keeffe

in the dining room

adobe painted white.

She said the room is white

so she can see more easily.

November, 1973

9

O’Keeffe listening to Richter

playing the Schumann

Piano Concerto

Sitting still

eyelids...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half title
• Title
• Copyright
• Dedication
• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• 5
• 6
• 7
• 8
• 9
• 10
• 11
• 12
• 13
• 14
• 15
• 16
• 17
• 18
• 19
• 20
• 21
• 22
• 23
• 24
• 25
• 26
• 27
• 28
• 29
• 30
• 31
• 32
• 33
• 34
• 35
• 36
• 37
• 38
• 39
• 40
• 41
• 42
• 43
• 44
• 45
• 46
• 47
• 48
• 49
• 50
• 51
• 52
• 53
• 54
• 55
• 56
• 57
• 58
• 59
• 60
• 61
• 62
• 63
• 64
• 65
• 66
• 67
• 68
• 69
• 70
• 71
• 72
• 73
• 74
• 75
• 76
• 77
• 78
• 79
• 80
• 81
• 82
• 83
• 84
• 85
• 86
• 87
• 88
• 89
• 90
• 91
• 92
• 93
• 94
• 95
• 96
• 97
• 98
• 99
• 100
• 101
• 102
• 103
• 104
• 105
• 106
• 107
• 108