by Jeffrey Grunthaner
Can’t you see it’s a misreading for something
You should have been able to decipher
Describing the sensation of life?
Brown furniture takes in at a glance
That the “forest” is a leather cushion surface,
Adjunct of the couch, possible cloth to the trees,
A felt fiction or name without any correspondent:
A lavender throw pillow.
Is darkness in the hall, the gathering of the living room,
The corridor of color and shade, an illuminated wind
Retreating by a single yellow bulb,
Suspended from a white string redolent:
Wire probably, weighted with anticipation
Of new perceptions.
The kitchen symbols
Are ultimately pictorial, while where the bulb hangs
There reads existence like a system,
Linoleum hieroglyphs drowning the map
Of his experience with soot darkening the floor.
Previously published in “Raven Images”