seems to me.
Take the mind eye and
knowingly caress
leaf angles and surfaces.
Move along the river of color.
Mind eye seeking texture,
strength, mass.
Once in a while,
all in a flash,
the heart eye moves out
in cosmic synapse,
and in this electron haze
knower and known are encompassed
in the fairy arms of being.
And it is being that is known.
Easy to draw
loved angles,
loved shapes.
Hard to draw
the glint in your own eye
when the mirror is your self.
This is another poem I wrote the first week of art school. This one was for Gary Brown, our legendary art professor who opened up all the windows, all the doors. In his drawing class we did etchings and learned about papermaking and we kept journals. I included this poem in POPPYROSE with a litho I don't like nearly as much as the charcoal drawing of my apple tree in Camarillo.
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