December 2011
November 2011
you,my window
sometimes i look through you
you’re not even
you have fissures
bubbles, even
i wouldn’t be surprised to find a spider web
in this neighborhood
but through you
i tried to see
for a while
a short while
a too short while
there was this thing,
you know,
that kept flapping
it banged too often
clamped things shut
blinded
a wood curtain.
those hinges were loose,
i think.
deep within i know it’s
hurricane season
there’s no flapping allowed.
i can’t see, anymore.
even your imperfections.
“The relation between what we see and what we know is never settled. Each evening we see the sun set. We know that the earth is turning away from it. Yet the knowledge, the explanation, never quite fits the sight.”
—John Berger, Ways of Seeing (via mythologyofblue)