Sometimes, perfect renderings of still life might signify a state of mind.
In this mood,
things become more defined, absolute, more themselves.
The silver sugar bowl is not just reflective,
but a collection of the objects around it.
The shadows between the soaking peas are as dark
and mysterious as those between trees in a forest;
scale is immaterial, the detail is precise.
Colours become experiences: I look into red,
as I’d search inside the flow a river; browns
take on the richness of mahogany,
a grain inside the colour, a dynamic.
I reach for the sugar and watch my hand, from mid-arm,
travelling over the table like a boat heading out to sea.
It seems that my eyes suck the energy that is in me;
build this crisp perception from my concrete,
leave me in darkness amongst the brilliance of things.
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