My poem draws on scraps of information I managed to elicit from my father and from writings by my mentally ill mother about their brief lives together in Paris in the early 50s. It appears he was quite a playboy. After his death I found that one of the places he'd resided when he was older was the Argonautes Hotel in the rue de la Huchette, frequenting the jazz cellars there, and then in the Hotel Notre-Dame, overlooked by gargoyles. In his youth he'd boarded in a pension in St-Germain-des-Prés, where Django Reinhardt was a neighbour.
"He wears a cathedral cloak with chimera eyes". The uni-horned goat chimera overlooking the quartier latin and Hotel Notre-Dame
"A carousel turns silently between his knees / and in it a boy is singing on a lacquered foal". The century old hand-cranked carousel in the Champ de Mars.
The devil chimera from Notre-Dame's south tower, overlooking his quartier
"One tie is an escalator, another a fountain / with Saint-Michel fighting Satan". My father was called Michel.
More than meets the eye. Intriguing associations. We were in Paris last June, so I am loving your viewpoint and the photos of where we walked and what we saw back then; albeit through different eyes. Worlds within worlds. Magical. Love it. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your kind comments Kay, I'm sure Paris means different things to different people, it's such a haunted city ins't it?
ReplyDeleteAll the best,
Pascale