Deep Into Vision

I’m going to tell you a secret.

But you can’t do it until you’ve reached a point

Where weary eyes and a trembling, frothing mouth

Paints itself on the canvas you call a face.

 

Stare into the mirror.

Look into your eyes and curse the first person.

Excavate the poor granite soil you call your soul.

Somewhere…

Smiling and hiding between the circumference of the iris and the pupil.

Hidden under the root of a small vein,

The “Third Person”;

The Secret Middle Finger scrapes his nail across your reflection.

Vociferously educating you,

“Unshushing” the secret…

 

The secret is…

Your pupil…

Is a hole…

It is a treasure box in which the world dives

Colour by colour.

In increments of dark and light, do this therefore,

On a day of trembling, frothing and weariness…

 

Excavate.

 

Reviews

[Emily B]

another treasure, just waiting for my fingers to scrape the quiet earth, to sit and study, and contemplate the bright colors and big throughts

you draw so many layers to your canvas, I study one and become diverted by another, they all mesh so beautifully, that I walk away with resignation to come and sit again.

[Emily B]

excavation is a risky business. when we dig deep, scrape back the soft color, what will we find in the depths? I am drawn into visions and secrets. I can't look away no matter what might be revealed. And I wonder if there are other stories you aren't telling. . .