here, lost and precious
I don’t start with a focus
an idea will present itself
here, the premise, the promise of
a notion reeking with stealth
looking through the living room
the distance and it’s in bloom
here, the depth of illusion
painting on that canvas
as if I were sitting in the theatre
gestures of leaves and the petals
here, the afternoon light
the movement of the trees
It should not be very precise