The Vision

"I cannot rub the strangeness from my sight I got from looking through a pane of glass I skimmed this morning from the drinking trough" After Apple Picking - Robert Frost when comparing looking through a lens with not there is an awareness much like through the eye of a poet distortion falls away rather than into place and there's an ache from the beauty of a street or a face it's funny what becomes invisible in those moments - arranged beauty disappears it's a feeling that's seen like the essence that existed in a tunnel of time transportation of an echo of myself to a place where I've filled in the outlines with knowledge I hold I saw a man with long hair and a long beard today, tainted yellow from cigarettes his hair though beyond shoulder length held the shape of a long ago hair cut his face troubled as he walked with purpose early in the morning there was a space in time that man was happy and though I passed in my car I felt it tangibly around him but separate from his form/a barrier in place I'd seen poem after poem until that point then they stopped like a line was crossed and grey descended until I arrived then I got the last parking space and messaged my manager that I was late and he said "don't worry, the meeting was cancelled"