Transparencies

with a veneer of plasticity

inconstancy,

the stir-stick marbling

skims the surface 

of alabaster paint.

at depth

a bleak, crackling, 

brownian motion

barricades my plummet

into stillness.

.

if i am that 

which i cannot reach,

why life?

why form?

why touch?

why us?

strip the moral of the stories,

a paint-chip drizzle,

and the body-soul 

is the one-earth. 

hands to the building

of the cairn,

i will not turn the stone

alone.

.

Β© M.G. Iannucci 2017

Photo: Purple Cone flowers from my garden





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