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Sightlines

You see they see
They see what we see and
What we don’t see
What we didn’t see but need to see.
See us looking gazing regarding
Thinking we see
Convinced we see
But not really seeing.
See us missing the picture
The details
The essence.
See us confusing fluff and drivel
For images of import and substance
See us seeing what we would like to see
Wish we could see
Imagined we would see
Seeing not nearly as well
As they can see.

Maybe
If we close our eyes.
They will show us how to see
With peerless clarity
That which they know
We are meant to see.


  Zev Torres __






Explanations

It may have been negligence
On the part of a mechanic
Or sabotage
Although there doesn’t seem to be a motive
For such nefarious behavior.
More likely it was the slanting rain
And the old tires
Underinflated and balding
No longer in optimal condition to grip the road.
And the medication might have played a role
– Too much too little; the side effects –
Or compelled by tortured reason to disclose
A repressed craving
A whitewashed regret
It might have been a sleight of the subconscious
Casting onto the windshield
In defiance of borders and authority
An intrusive reverie
At the most inopportune of times.

  Zev Torres__


Winter Sostice by Patricia Carragon
           © Patricia Carragon: Winter Sostice


Pristine Contradictions

Pristine contradictions.
Collisions need not hurt
Or cause damage.
Some just turn you about
In another direction
Until you notice something different or new
Something that has always been there
But you had never noticed before:
How quickly the sun crosses the Southern sky in December;
The way some parents rush to help
Their toddler who has stumbled
While others wait patiently
As their little one rises to his feet
Tries again
Takes his next step
The memory of his fall having faded
To play in his life
No role of significance.

  Zev Torres__


Splashing Through Time

Splashing through time.
Daring children brave enough
To swim deep beneath the surface
Chasing myths and legends
Certitudes and absolutes
Old patterns drifting to the bottom
Trying to scoop them up
Before they adhere to the floor
The hastily forgotten past.

Never could you have foretold
Who among them would
Thrive in this environment
Who would be put off by the elements
Or energized stimulated enticed
By the cold and the depth.

If you could have lined them up beforehand
Studied them and looked in their eyes
Examined their shapes and sizes
Watched the ways they fidgeted
Jostled one another
And yawned
Never could you have guessed
Which ones would run off to the
Warm sun-soaked chalk-lined fields and
Who would prefer to remain indoors
In the room with the game system or
Who among them would plunge in
As if they had been anticipating
This moment since birth
As if all other callings could wait
Because there is nothing better than
Breaking the surface
Escaping one world and entering another
Where colors curve and bend
Sounds are muffled and low
A dimension removed from the sky and sun
Where they can float and kick and spin about
Their feet never brushing the ground.

  Zev Torres__