Amber's Angle
The slant of sepia vision
steals reality
right out from
underneath me, and the light simulates transcendence.
I walk one way, you
another,
waking with
conviction,
falling straight
through.
Plant me tall where they've cut you out.
The plane swinging, I'm reaching, noisy,
up once
more, talking
toppled over, waxing jagged, finished. Shaded lines in unison embrace me
and diamond
tailed, you dive down.
We meet,
texture upon texture,
the thatch
now crowning and
angels fling us far above the throbbing
pulse of rain.
Imaginary Garden
This is an incredible piece of poetry - so evocative of Escher's picture but you have given it a texture all its own.
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Kerry, Thanks. This picture had endless possibilities. :)
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