Reading Stitches
Books, Poetry, Things I Wish I Knew For Sure, and not all that much about Knitting

Jul 11, 2012

Blindspot


I can’t see the trees for the forest.
Blind and needy, I peel back the bark with rough movements
And trembling hands, exposing crawling and desperate
Insects and the red raw life at the core of my sightlessness.
My self so close to the tree - at first I am overwhelmed by the sweet scent
Smashing my face inside.
Having invaded so carelessly, and with such rush, soon
I am dizzy, repulsed -
Nauseated by the suddenness of the present.


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