Chiaroscuro ii
- Details
- Written by Eve Moore
Chiaroscuro ii
It started the way it does,
as it happens,
without my seeing.
Was it the scarlet flame
of the blueberry that
singed these optics
wide enough to
sense the
bearing?
Did the oak corpses
strewn, prostrated,
mouthing their oms
ply my drums with
their sotto drone?
Or was the shaft
slung from The Orb
piercing long shadows
the bit that’s jolted
the track from
pause to
play
to play
to play
amidst
the falling
down
refractions of
the dark daring
the traveler to
follow their
trace
zag by
zag yielding,
the stir of emergence
tween the twin
blades of
shoulder
a kind of
distracting
magic
secreted
the while
in this den
of mystery’s
glinting
talons
talisman
to thinking,
hazarding,
too far
ahead
a totem
to poise
in flow.
To play
even when
all appears
adrift, askew,
lost to a dream
of former
likeness.
A silver beam
cast in a pool made
solid by a trick
of lens
flashing
flashing.
Circle upon
circle catching
the afternoon
in its pelt.
What was
is not, for what
is is all
now.
Smell the fragrance
of this death in the
bloomed tangle,
the swallowed
rains of mind:
sweet.
For it bakes
something
in its fist.
Its song.
Its belly.
Something new.
Something that
rises after
resting.
Something that
has never
tasted
of this
before.
Like yellow.
Like sky.
Like rose brier
and wilt.
The stink bug
knows this. The
lady beetle, too.
White pines
watch,
watch.
Aware
of what’s
taking place
right before
our eyes.
∞/∞
Eve Moore ©2020
© Photo: Eve Moore
Eve Moore: Once a professional writer of advertising, I saw the light & it has shown me words of a different nature. And so I take them down & offer them up. And all is well.
“When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.”
—Jimi Hendrix
This poem was submitted exclusively to CrystalWind.ca by Eve Moore.
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