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Poem of the day – A blurry photograph by Martha Ronk

July 9, 2013

glass bottom filter

The tree azalea overwhelms the evening with its scent,

defining everything and the endless fields.

Walking away, suddenly, it slices off and is gone.

The visible object blurs open in front of you,

the outline of a branch folds back into itself, then clarifies–just as

you turn away–

and the glass hardens into glass

as you go about taking care of things abstractedly

one thing shelved after another, as if they were already in the past,

needing nothing from you until, smashing itself on the tile floor,

the present cracks open the aftermath of itself.

Love that last line, speaks to me powerfully.  Also, ETA photo is not mine, got it off the net somewhere…


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