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Messy Analytics
I am still attracted to the story of his mystery
I can travel trough his drawings and feel them like new rooms within myself
Like how memory saturates, swells and ebbs as it is overwritten
It surges when I see his marks
There is a home here- somewhere the search for a home
A stained paradise
Of sharp gesture and loose colored string
What happiness I believe he feels when lonely
What a world there on the wall
That I've found myself lost in
It is gesture and it is space
I see you there
Do not try to fool me
I am alone and turned around in your charcoal and pastels
But it reminds me of you- it feels of you and aches of you
My forgetfulness and absence is at a glance revoked
And I've only memory of few words and glances spared to start
— so I am compelled ever inward
Again wanting to discover the secret and ordinary truth
Behind your visage and your stroke
Copyright ©
Rachel Temkin
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