Optics
Sometimes a duck
becomes a rabbit
if you tilt your head
a certain way.
Sometimes
the young beauty
is the old hag
when you cross your eyes.
Take the weed.
Consider its greens and violets.
It is a centerpiece
for Sunday dinner.
A terrorist
is a freedom fighter
depending on
your postal code.
Sometimes
an ink pen
is a match.
Set a fire. Cook a roast.
Light a cigarette. Burn the house.
Then judge the flames.
The multiverse
is a pivot
of your neck,
a crack in
your spectacles,
a word choice
in translation.
8 thoughts on "Optics"
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This is so good!
Had to read it outloud to my life partner.
“Cool”, he said.
Thank you for showing us the influence of perspective with these examples.
And congrats on your upcoming book with Accents Publishing!
Agreed on all she said!
The poem I was posting for today was centered on optics too! Another squeezed ahead in line but will tomorrow
“A terrorist
is a freedom fighter
depending on
your postal code.”
Oof! This is so good, Sean!
What Marianne said.
I especially like “the multiverse is…a word choice in translation.” Entire meanings can be altered there, especially when one language has words for things the other doesn’t.
I was sold by the five concrete stanzas
I love everything about this, Sean!
“Sometimes
an ink pen
is a match.”
Indeed. Reminds me of Neruda saying all poetry is political.
and this:
“A terrorist
is a freedom fighter
depending on
your postal code.”
BINGO! Peter Yustinov (of all people!) said war is the terrorism of the wealthy, and terrorism is the war of the poor.
And that excellent final strophe, calling on transformation. NICE!