Visiting
Van Gogh. Black hole of eye socket possesses flesh, light-eons that made sight
possible. Moon of face owns the force of time, to attack or hold back. Clean as
wind, scribble down warms the bird. Overlays of crossed feathers could be the
wood they emulate. Pencil, pen and ink on paper, the owl is a statement beyond words.
When claws lifted off black branch one June night its wonder went unseen by its
prey. The hand that drew was already wounded and could self-wound, was never
going to cease drawing the plan, until eye or face or hand failed.
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