and post notes and photos about your poem like Debbie Guzzi.
Is it insane to want to watch your step,
to purposefully plant a foot?
Must one’s eyes always be downcast,
if not pierced or piercing are we lost?
we stand clothed
but bare before the storm
across a distant lake the light shimmers
like mercury under glass
the sky larger than the landscape
lays down tumble weeds of cloud
tripping across a buried morass of roots
the beauty under foot screams for its share
of gratuitous attention
floriforms of fungus blooms
resplendent in silence
static and maudlin
is the eye
Somehow, I think sanity is not
all it’s cracked up to be.
First Published by Five Poetry Magazine January 2014
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2015