Sky-show of wisp-drift,
pulled out and twisted,
this-that way, wind-play
every-which-way, haywire,
white-brushed, smeared,
flicked with single horsehair,
so subtle-accomplished, yet
with a here-and-there what
first seemed a naive
clumsy squiggle, slowly
congeals a Blake male,
bending to reclining female,
all in a broken eggshell.
Through these sky-veils,
sun burns forearms
little dimmed; and under it
the usual earthly matters:
today a green-bottle basks
near a gravel chunk
on a rough table.
Fly flicks away.
There is no Blake.
Near sun, long streaks
upside-down waterfalls,
paper-tilted wet paint run
over deep wash, droplets
blow-dried to vanishing.
Ah, a slice of time...
Money-spider abseils
white-shirt then down
her string to ground.
..
YOU ARE READING
Bare Shouldered
Puisi"The difference of high Sensations with and without knowledge appears to me this - in the latter case we are falling continually ten thousand fathoms deep and being blown up again without wings and with all [the] horror of a bare shouldered Creature...
