Ekphrasis poem: "Spotlight"


    A ponder house
    a horizon-line truck stop
    a cloud smoking a-ways off and
    tin-roof triangles that point to nowhere but up.

    Red rust bargains stand
    in a man-less land, bright
    by squared off horizon lines and
    the undercover grass shadows like tufts of sour jade,
    little jagged emeralds reaching upward.

    Two seas staring
    each other down by raw,
    green distance; shade turned over into light, the
    small pockets only seem right when reflected by

    a flung-off sky,
    a piece of pocket-sun
    running away up and out of
    strung-out clouds sitting on the edge of the undercurrent,

    the border line
    breaking point between now
    and then, here and red, forever
    stretching away into a cobalt-fever sky.

    Stop a second,
    breathe for two; can you feel
    the whole scene flipping over itself,
    flimsy, as it peels into a refractory reality,
    as it reels into you?


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