“At four in the morning my body bumped against the ceiling.”
– Jim Harrison
…and it’s my wounded
inner eye that draws
me up and out of myself to roam.
In the early hours when sleep
rests heavy, a dew-drenched
blanket covering my undiscovered
trespasses, lapses, the eye –
that damned eye! – with vision
softened through it’s pearl
iris, leads me in drafts of flight.
I become a glider without confines.
Last night the poetry failed,
and I fluttered upward on prose.
I have the bruises to prove it.
* * *
This is Day 27 of Jilly’s “Days of Unreason.” I want to thank Jilly for originating this challenge two years ago! Jim Harrison’s poetry is not for everybody — it’s for those who see the poetic in the natural world, in the trials of life, and at the edge of insanity. I have grown as a writer and a poet through my interaction with these prompts. Thank you, Miss Jill!
“We all know that Art is not truth.
Art is a lie that makes us realize truth,
at least the truth that is given us to understand.
The artist must know the manner whereby
to convince others of the truthfulness of his lies.”
― Pablo Picasso