bornstein_dsc1425_v2crop.jpeg

(Photo credit: This poem was inspired by German and French artist Emmanuel Bornstein‘s piece, The Kiss, 200 x 300 cm, oil on canvas, 2015.  Courtesy Galerie Crone, Berlin Wien.  Fotos: Marcus Schneider, Berlin.  www.emmanuelbornstein.com)

 

Within me

(One)

Are many—

I stand before

A hall of dreams

In the shape of

Experiences made

Both

Fair and unbalanced trades

Of who I am and

Who I cannot

Be.

 

 

I sit in this gallery

Of my imagination

Hover above

The movement and

Stagnation

Looking for

Patterns—

Logic—

Keeps me safe

Amidst the mingling.

 

 

The sound of a projector

Clicks

Slowly first

And then

Like a train

Clunking along the tracks

I am lulled by

The sound

Hypnotized by

Flickering light

And by sight—

 

 

I understand the staying

And the leaving

The letting go

The cleaving

Left and right

Up and falling

Down

The subtle

Entertainments

Like a clown—

 

 

Confusing

Are the shades—

Shadows dripping

In between

Choices made and

Consequences delayed

Like wax

Rolling from my tongue

Flaming with

Lies—

 

 

Shocked by spies

I did not realize

Hidden

Inside the eyes

Of masked

Faces

I thought—

But thought wrong—

I understood

Or

At least,

Trusted.

 

 

Spinning above

A clue—

Vacuous subtlety

Sucks me out of

Reason

Spits me onto

The shoes of

Risk

Actions taken

Reactions forsaken—

What are the questions

I should ask?

 

 

Falling into the dance

Floating limp

Entranced by

What I see

Because

I thought

What I felt

Was Real

Illusions encircle

Delusions surround

Heavy with vision

Surprised by

The lack of sound.

 

 

Brushing past

These memories

A second time

I feel

What I denied

In the moment

When first they flew by—

Objective

In review of life

A rebellion of

Discovery—

The shades of

Subjectivity

Perceiving

Inside the reeling

I finally have a feeling

I was wrong.

 

 

I want to travel in

To unravel all

The meaning

The goodness

The sin

But instead of

Losing myself therein

I will choose one

Moment to rescind

My faulty impression

And then leave

Once again this hall of

Recollection.

 

 

The kiss.

 

 

It split my core

Side by side

Once one

Now two of me

Floating free

In airless chambers

Awaiting destiny

Now I see

I built a case

For future disgrace

Called it true

But now

Upon review

I see

You tilted me

Then let me go

Let me fall

When

What I called deep

Was actually small—

I never should have dipped

Into the angle

The descent

Is the fault

I carry

Or drop

When I think of you.

 

 

Okay. It’s true.

I was wrong

To believe

Weak and

Deceived

Crushed by the weight

Of the moment

The denouement

Just after the peak

I wanted—

Instead of received—

You to speak

Truth

And so I heard

What I wanted to hear.

 

 

Within me

(One)

Are many—

But now one less

Than there were

Before

I acquiesce to

The hall of dreams

Laying down

As an offering,

Reality.

 

copyright Jill Szoo Wilson

Advertisements