Blinkers Gaze 

Shadow of the gantry-post against the tarmac,
the black criss-crosses, cross-hatched lines slanted to the angle of the day,
the angle of the sun
as it moves across the sky.
Lengthening perspectives,
distorting images.
How did the circus arrive at the Guggenhiem?
All its Art Deco Modernism is nothing but a faded façade,
the show-biz and razzle-dazzle of days-gone-by.
All inside
a ruin,
of years neglected.
Guttering making a messy, marshmallow, marshland of the walls,
creating a vertical Bayou,
a river-delta swamp of verdant green
down the walls
and I looking through the lenze of my camera
seem to be missing all the action – distracted by the rectangular viewfinder,
unable to see beyond the shutters-speed,
so blind,
my eyes are tightly jammed shut
force of pure will,
will not open them.
Close my eyes,
blinker my sight,
distort my vision,
restrict my look, redirect my gaze,
now I see the blinkers,
can I cast off the blinders?
Now I see the device,
Can I look beyond at what is real?

Can I see what stands in the light?

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