© Gay Reiser Cannon * 2012
Those bones first pulverized and burned
blue-white, mixed strong then recalcined;
kiln fired, then cooled moon-white when turned.
Emerging purified, refined,
the artist finely paints with glaze.
Each stroke dissolved to mere outlines,
Her hands create designs through haze.
My bones may frame my current home,
provide my ark to glide through time;
I’m spun then cooled to learn alone,
perhaps become a paradigm.
My journey forms a path unique;
each chance encounter realigns
the course that I was born to seek.
© Gay Reiser Cannon * 8/28/2012 * All Rights Reserved
Found on wiki-commons
I pass the portal into the land of the forgotten;
loneliness, a morning mist, obscures the day.
It rises to the limbs of trees hung with shreds
of faded lingerie and laddered stockings;
baby clothes and evening gowns rustle
on the ground scraping shoes with broken heels.
A vague tinkling music box melody with missing notes
wafts in, loops an oscillating plinking on the breeze.
The lonely mist watercolors shadowed forms
where sadness softens contours of the left-behind.
I stumble through the deepening fog seeking reasons;
cloaked shapes move past at the periphery of memory.
I hear myself calling, moaning in misery, the mystery’s
a shroud that’s wrapped me alive, wanting, needing.
Beyond these clouds lies my fate in some inky pond
and I advance seeking someone to take my hand.
© Gay Reiser Cannon * 8/7/2012 * All Rights Reserved