Sunday Poem

PICASSO'S RADIO

Picasso's radio played music

that no one else had even heard yet.

Sitting in Paris in 1911

he was already listening to Bob Dylan.

He knew the Rolling Stones by heart.

He would say to Georges Braque, "Georges,

there's this really neat group called the Eagles,"

but Braque was busy playing Bach

on classical clarinet. "Gertrude," Pablo would say,

"you'd love this record called Blonde on Blonde,"

but Stein would give him a stony stare

and turn a deaf ear. So Picasso would go

back to his studio there in Bateau Lavoir

and turn up Beggar's Banquet loud, until Juan Gris

banged on the ceiling. Alas, when he moved

to bourgeois quarters in Montparnasse,

Picasso left his radio behind. He always wanted

to find it again, to tune into Tina Turner,

but some unscrupulous second-hand dealer

has hoarded it away in his basement

where every single night he listens to paintings

the world will never see.

From Dunino (1989) by Stephen Scobie.