my feet still,
incessantly gliding
through the memories of others
a forged collective consciousness
“he understood” my heart sung
about the brightness, the motion, the impression.


the snapshot of the tête-à-tête
of everyone’s personal Matinée
a wistful stare down a water glass, the motion and destruction of ballet
flash of new technology
an advent of photography
light’s dance over a bale of hay
on a cold, sparkly winter’s day
a stark, gaze of a *** Olympic
cold, unromantic and simplistic
depiction of the human eye which would take flight
and end up landing in a Starry Night.