| Romantic Metamorphosis |
Life found me that year,
Not in the form of some self-help article,
Nor a perception unavoidable in my art.
Time ran fast, past the trickling seconds
Of final exams, smiling friends, fashion magazines
And the humdrum of regularity.
Only, nothing was regular in that time,
Love ran optimal through my veins,
Misperceptions painted me better than Van Gogh.
Sophistication sliced my personality
Like a virtual knife, a traipsed spell, some omen
That dropped in my lap, not evil but enlightening.
Men found me flawless and I found myself
Flowing across the words of Shakespeare and Milton,
I was at one with them, their ideas became me.
I was all at once a universal part of everything,
The sky, molten brick in the college’s new café,
Road signs, political billboards, the soliloquy of abstraction.
Appearing in Deeper Than Pink, Copyright © of Stacy Lynn Mar 2009
Not in the form of some self-help article,
Nor a perception unavoidable in my art.
Time ran fast, past the trickling seconds
Of final exams, smiling friends, fashion magazines
And the humdrum of regularity.
Only, nothing was regular in that time,
Love ran optimal through my veins,
Misperceptions painted me better than Van Gogh.
Sophistication sliced my personality
Like a virtual knife, a traipsed spell, some omen
That dropped in my lap, not evil but enlightening.
Men found me flawless and I found myself
Flowing across the words of Shakespeare and Milton,
I was at one with them, their ideas became me.
I was all at once a universal part of everything,
The sky, molten brick in the college’s new café,
Road signs, political billboards, the soliloquy of abstraction.
Appearing in Deeper Than Pink, Copyright © of Stacy Lynn Mar 2009
| ~A woman who writes feels too much, those trances and portents! As if cycles and children and islands weren't enough; as if mourners and gossips and vegetables were never enough. She thinks she can warn the stars. A writer is essentially a spy. Dear love, I am that girl.~ Anne Sexton |
| Stacy Lynn Mar |