National Poetry Month Tribute Continues

 

Levels Of A Cafe Window

Inside the narrow hall I perceive an opening wall

like a 2-D painting with scattered shapes and shadow

real as bricks or a Lasgaux cave

or icons glittering gold mosaic shards across a frieze

atop tall columns Gothic, Romanesque now seized

by black and white Art Deco mirrors, 

vased and architected

things.

Original seeing before the depth of understanding

before the holographic rendering…

where all sides are one,

I face the trunk, then see the tail and convex gut.

All seeing, all knowing in retrospect.

Ah vision, blind illusion is photographically still.

Outside the windowglass, my ears protected

from the sound of sky and wind

and passing flights of geese,

just then, a man walks left to right.

Halfway through the sun’s light he splits in two,

and one beam bounces off his chest

one part hides from view

like a magic trick magician’s use to fool me and you.

But motion makes him more than flat, in fact

he becomes a silent film,

a replication of belief 

in substance

in light

where petty algorithms of slight 

appear.

MR. POTATOE HEAD

It is a pity that the knowledge came at last

as I gaze upon my distant past.

Earth’s young lined up to come and prosper from the time

when nine-tenths of the population

solidify the lessons learned in half the time.

Like a train from Penn Station’s underground

exiting the tunnel at the speed of sound

they found the key, the we, the profound seeing,

the moving stats from A to B.

What happened to me?

I see a woman sitting in her seat

she seems complete, slender,

tall if on her feet.

Yet as she stands her torso widens

at her hips and thighs,

her legs are shortened and her gait was

forward-leaning from her waistband.

What happened to her?

How did she get to be composite,

not personality, but body parts that seemed as one

but came instead as three?

I marvel at the disarrangement knowing all I see

is just the play of energy for my fun amusement.

Copyright Mary LaForge

https://howiescaped.com/about/

Thoughts, readers? 

What's your favorite line, stanza or poem?

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