step into the photograph
reveals dimension and depth
of a spectrum once thought
one shade of red carpet.
Ripe grapes within reach
turn out to be clustered planets
in middle distance – not looming
but imminent, nor aware of you
enough to know they tempt.
A front rumbles over, a cloud parade
nourishing the fallow with mere greatness
and not a drop of rain, since
advice seems violent – storms
breaking over grass
too yellow to be green.
So fame is somehow like the weather –
predictable but prayed to,
for aspirers – the hurt that helps.
Might artists be so bent on greatness
they’d sacrifice integrity for presence,
spread so far and thin they become
like air – invisible and essential, so omnipresent
Blooms in autumn
shed their white hair seeds
carried where the wind insists. It is this
that tells me – not the photo –
that they still exist, the shoulders of giants
lighter than air, which lift the future
so confined and dense,
letting it land with thoughtful
Featured artwork: Union by Gudrun Newman
Image used with permission from the artist.