(For Wallace Stevens)
Renoir goes on painting.
A man from south France tells me it is so.
One picture a day, good or bad, the old man goes on.
And little work every day on one big picture for God
and children and remembered women.
So Renoir, his right arm no good anymore
And the left arm half gone,
So Renoir goes on.
And when you come again
We will go to Edelweiss for jazz
Or to Hester’s dirty place on the river
Or to some Chinese dump where they bring what you want
and no questions asked,
And I will ask you why Renoir does it
And I believe you will tell me.