Blind Edges

Blind Edges

Blind Edges

my eyes, my sensors,

scan the crimson pomegranate on the darkened table:

clenched kernels, a brain-fist;

some loose ones swimming- like the smallest squid

in a shadow sea

…before the picture then, came the sensor eye,

…then culture handprinted on cave walls

…those grunts floating between apes

…at last flattened into print…

these pomegranates are not conversing;

they have now turned black,

like an art statement of the cave hour;

my blind edges stay frayed,

but the pomegranates jeer with ghoulish faces

and ignite the  flee or fight response

(should we teach our machines to think in pictures first?)

my mirrored eyes of blind insight focus inward:

maybe our culture will desert us

and so too our consciousness,

when our mismanaged earth starts boiling

and a phase change

turns us back into rocks.



About michelledevilliersart

Dribbler, scribbler, dabbler, doodler, dreamer...
This entry was posted in #amdoodling, #amreading, poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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