Finding that half image in completeness.
May be finding that brush stroke,
that gives the image its complete picture.

There is a picture that I had forgotten.
May be a piece is still stuck on the tip,
of a scented pink eraser.

What happens after that is the real story.
I eat the eraser and break the brush.
I walk into the picture,
and get lost.

Who cares about completeness after all…

Categories: Poetry

Tags: Poetry, Poetry Project