Right
hand in a landscape
without a girl
or a flower.
No echo of truth haunts the illusion.
So why does the naïve consciousness travel for answer?
Think on it…
The wings . . . The facts and values and the last gasp . . . The scrapes in ink . . .
No biography
or tidal wave of Blake and Shelly in your cigarette . . .
No sentence that holds the lifetime of Atlantis . . .
Answers?
Did you try using the chisel?
No skeleton in the dark place . . .
No kiss.
After all the weeds & sweat & tears—
An empty right
hand in a landscape
without a girl
…or a flower
(Anat Fort “Not the Perfect Storm”)
(C) Joseph S. Pulver, Sr. 2011
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