I’m no Neo, have no special powers,
but it happens,
a person finds that inner voice
that speaks inside his own
then in time, eyes become two-way mirrors
they see behind the thing seen
where perception falters
and clarity waits to be revealed.
The world is still the same as it has always
portrayed itself to be.
It remains the dominant vision.
The paint on the canvas is still there,
but, and here’s the difference,
you know it’s a picture, a pentimento
an overlaying upon an under image.
Sometimes the real
jumps through the matrix of a collective reality.
Then the sleeper awakes,
seams break open,
and the poetry of discernment
shows a new face.
Categories:
pentimento, poetry,
Form: Free verse
It has been growing upon me,
this sense of extra exposure in a photograph.
I’m beginning to peer out
like the moon behind dark branches.
It has been coming upon on me,
this feeling of being in a picture -
a picture scratched into skin,
a skin nailed to a blazing sun.
I am in this painting
where a superimposed ghost-tint
back-lights my self-image -
a pentimento emerging through.
In these visions there is a pensiveness
where light meets shadow
as if I were witnessing
the late works
of an artist yet to be born.
Categories:
pentimento, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Pentimento
I remember the night
that last night
in our bedroom
with the lights on
our child crying
in another room
go ahead, you said
it’s what all men want
go ahead
you said, yet again.
Categories:
pentimento, heartbreak,
Form: Free verse