Through your lens the cypress family swallowed me
like a nymph of the woods.
The camera flashed & dismissed from the mind.
I, on the other hand, must practice my absent-
mindedness, memory being awkward as a touch
that goes unloved.
Lately your eyes have shut
down to a shade more durable than skin's.
I know you love the passing play, how it smooths.
You choose an aerial view,
the city angled to abstraction, while I go for the close
exposures: poorly-mounted visages along Broadway,
the greeens cracking each meager backlot.
It's a matter of perspective: yours is to love me
from a block away & mine is to praise the coarseness
that weaves expressively: your face.
nymph of the woods. must practice my absent- mindedness, unloved memory.. closed eyes, in shadow the greeens cracking, matter of perspective.. praising the coarseness, and you love me frome the block way. These are the points which i collected from your poem. Thank you very much for this poem. It shows the brilliance of your mind and intellect. Thank you very very much dear poetess. tony
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A refined poetic imagination, Seema S. You may like to read my poem, Love And Lust. Thank you.