How and Why I Should Have Looked You in the Eyes:

Focus is the hinge

Between experience and reality that you dangle me from.

Frozen winches and stays–

I never earnestly looked at you

(only out of you

(Like a window));

My pride clings like

The pixillating condensation

Bolting blind the top-floor library–

Like a vitreous slogan of a monument,

Reading.

Pride was a shiver.

I float in the blur of your

Shallow depth of field

Like a spirit waiting for its clay;

Because the abstractions of experience

Make the metaphor of photography literal,

Purgatory lenses your beauty.

Glacial.  Tangled in cables.

Spirit, they’ve vanished!