At Length

literature that looks good on a laptop

from “Thend”

[$s ] 

I hated who I was so I googled me; 
I had a name I was not born with 
so I met my partner’s patronymic 50/50 
and immediately bulldozed the patriarchy;  
o and the jokes available when your name 
means money; the names you shouldn’t 
name your kids; neither Buck nor Odetta; 
I nearly died but I didn’t; I didn’t know 
what to do with the surplus so I googled me 
and saw that I had published some poetry 
but also that I am a homonym; apologies 
for the confessional modality; he lives  
in NY and is VP of Sotheby’s; shattering 
pièces de résistance under the hammer 

[sunflower]

pièces de résistance under the hammer
and compressed into venture; into thick air;
instantly immersive and therefore nowhere;
temperature-controlled LED glimmer
and projective worth clicked onto your shirt;
lit with weepy music and ever moving
through the hollow aisles like a credit-portrait
resuscitating the folded-boxstore; proving
entirety; fungible sunflower; interpret
this; baste and twitch; rootless aura raving;
immaterial blossoms smeared to life;
somewhere to be amidst the spectacle;
the mist; to remake the rain; how derivative
to represent that which is acceptable

[bid] 

to represent that which is most valuable 
we have hired white men with speeding voices; 
sensitive to the slightest gesture; who know 
where the bidding begins and ends; these choices 
define us and the span we have agreed 
to be in; yes; I suppose “choices” doesn’t 
get exactly at it; when one is freed  
from the burdens of value the repercussions 
may be less infectious; that said any words 
pronounced quickly enough can catch on 
can mold what happens next; let the record 
show the defendant was in oblivion when 
the paddle fell; its mouth dropping open;  
and then and only then it was finally then

[handling greatness] 

and then and only then it is finally now; 
the haptic whorl on a YouTube spondee; 
buffering; now the man who somehow 
shares my name; poised confidently 
on an Alvar Aalto stool; très élégant 
in black and white; priceless suit & tie; 
the business of doing cost evident 
in practiced tone and all-appraising eye; 
I’ve watched it for years now; its name  
too has changed; The Defining Moment 
(née Handling Greatness); quietly reframed 
in a brave act of corporate prereparation; 
he speaks; rather than try to describe it 
I’ve taken the liberty here of transcribing it 

I love old masters; I love impressionist  
and modern art; I love paintings; but I always  
felt the most comfortable in the 19th c;  
and the greatest discovery of my career  
comes out of that area; over the course  
of 35 years at Sotheby’s; out of everything 
what stands out in my mind was the Fall  
of 1986; and a client called up and said  
they had a painting by David; he said it’s called  
“Farewell of Telemachus and Eucharis”  
from 1818; this was a wonderful love story  
that was taken from book seven of Homer’s  
Odyssey;  

                          I immediately went  
to do research on the painting and found  
that we had sold the painting in 1950;  
from 1950 to 1986 it had not been seen  
by the public; it was really considered lost;  
in doing my research on the painting;  
I noticed that the definitive book  
on David at that time listed that the  
1950 sale in NY was of the painting  
by David’s student; a woman called Sophie  
Rude; 

           so anybody who would have researched  
the painting would have seen that and thought 
without question the painting that this man  
had is not the original David; in  
researching it further; it was clear  
that the painting that was sold in 1950  
was not the Rude version because of the  
signature and dating difference:  
the David version was signed on the quiver  
and dated on the horn and that was  
the difference; I explained to the client  
that what he has is the original painting  
so it was a discovery and really  
made a big splash when it hit the auction  
block; 

               the painting comes in; and not only  
is it perfectly genuine: it is  
spectacular; It was un-lined; it had  
never been cleaned; even the nails were these  
old original nails that were the nails  
that David had when he stretched the canvas;  
it was literally as if it had come  
right off David’s easel;

                                                 the most exciting  
moment was when Andy Warhol came in;  
he stared at the painting; and he said  
oh my god; I wish I were a painter;

and I said; Andy; you are a painter; 
and he sort of just lifted an eyebrow;

I think what he was saying with that one  
lift of an eyebrow: you are looking  
at a masterpiece; we had estimated  
the painting to sell for between 2 and 3  
million; 

                    before the sale a woman called  
up and said I need to come in because  
I’m going to be bidding on the painting  
and I need to talk to you;  

                                               she then said  
I want to have a signal so nobody  
knows I’m bidding; she said if I’m holding  
my pearls I’ll be bidding on the painting; 
so the painting comes up; and she immediately  
went like this; she holds her pearls out; I thought  
she was going to choke herself; until  
the bidding stopped and she was the successful  
bidder; 

         the painting sold for just over  
five million dollars; she was a bidder  
for the Getty Museum; and that’s where  
the painting hangs now; 

                                             It’s not the most  
expensive painting I ever handled; but  
to me it was just; handling greatness

[book VII] 

I’ve taken the liberty above to transcribe it 
though some of what it says is inaccurate; 
for instance one of the two figures depicted 
in the painting is absent from the epic; 
honestly neither is even mentioned 
in Book VII of the Odyssey; mostly  
renderings of halls and gardens; Odysseus  
spilling his boring [non-beautiful non- 
love] story to the Phaeacians; proving his worth; 
convincing the locals of his humanity 
and seducing them into dazed sympathy; 
as for his only son Telemachus 
he’s trapped in Book IV with Penelope; 
suspicious are we; we who walk the earth 

[backstory] 

suspicious we are we who trod the ground; 
perhaps more so those of us who share a name; 
I’m always most suspect of my homophones; 
they can be found in any town; they came 
to this country with potatoes in their pockets 
and took it; I know them well; their sideburns 
and sunburns; the clanging tang of their spit; 
it’s my job; praise; complain; the world turns 
predictable; repeat; someone has to know 
what to say when there’s nothing to say; 
it’s bad work if you can get it; be thorough; 
suspect your own skin; the message it purveys; 
go stalk yourself; map the territory;  
the story takes place inside another story 

[fenelon] 

the story takes place inside another story; 
Fenelon’s Les Aventures de Télémaque  
[1799]; Odyssey spin-off; 
last caress betwixt a prince and a nymph; 
something you’d pass quickly on your way 
to something more gestural; polemical; 
something more minimal; terminal; 
in a century closer to one’s own; 
less ornamental; less retinal; less  
dimensional; on the way to a pile 
of collected neon fluff; but what the fuck 
let’s stop and judge for a while; what is style 
but a theory of work and time and time 
a break between the seconds you’re not alive 

The painting "The Farewell of Telemachus and Eucharis" by Jacques-Louis David

[Meier]

a break between time; barely alive; 
five miles or two hours up the 405 
from the clinic where you get infused; 
if you time it right they shake your blood  
to see if you’re going to die; incline 
tram; south pavilion gallery S205; 
16,000 tons of light and travertine; 
the white-cold campus of a serial ego; 
good building; bad man; again again; 
look for the garish gilded frame containing 
the chosen two; strategically exposed 
beneath their red-blue-hot chitons; immortal; 
the way pictures prove; flushed; revived; 
it’s hard to say if it’s saying goodbye 

[ἐκφράζειν] 

it’s hard to say when one’s saying goodbye; 
the boy; let’s face it; has this look in his eye; 
he knows he’s got to go; he holds his pike 
like a selfie-stick and holds his endless pose; 
yellow hair; black eye; he holds her thigh 
like an augmented chord and holds her thigh; 
the girl’s fingers hold the girl’s fingers 
tight; same pink paint as her pink wrap 
whose beaded clasps barely clasp; she clasps 
his neck; a vise; she smacks her face; collapsed; 
it’s sad and settled; the sniffing snout reposed 
at the exact slant of horn and arm and cord; 
always going; never gone; a standing wave; 
it’s pretty cold without a coat in a cave 

Ben Doller is the author of multiple books of poems and essays, including Fauxhawk and The Yesterday Project, written with Sandra Doller. He teaches at UC San Diego.