In our pieces, we are seen:
incomplete, inchoate, and
framed by box and shadow —
Petals destined to fall on
the waiting earth;
localized, momentary scents
dreaming they permeate the world —
Seeds scattered across plain and canvas,
tinged with blood-decor,
turning our faces towards
secret suns and water,
Speaking our feelings into lives,
even as our lives
show flat through
intrinsic limitations
