Poetry: Heather Smith-Gearns

Anchored to Three

There is nothing left to see.

Only stillness with shadow to define provocative white monochrome duality.

My fearful misconceptions contained within, are packed up in boxes,and placed in the corner.

Overlooked, refused,and admired, my devotions neglect – a backlash hangover.

I will never be able to let go – you made sure of it.

Elusive immediate periphery chained to residual space, highlights the fragility keeping your memory alive.

No transcendence, no assumption, only illusion.

Your line a mere index of process.

Disappearing variation in the speed of inscription.

Conceptual gesture become a rupture in my psyche.

I cannot frame you, or place you on the wall.

Your ghost is insistent.

Dominating figure, and ground, yet tragically uncertain.

Our transformed hierarchical structure, important lessons in spatial ambiguity.

In each hesitation, vibrant chroma causes hallucination.

The inevitable process of enclosing, protecting,and enabling.

Anchored to three , upside down, your form in grid.

All the necessary tension creating possibility.

Surrounded by blue field, brushstroke blind, in a fog of gray.

I can hear your voice in the semiotic shift, elusive as usual.

Visible only in the dark.

Dangerous sad for me, this recognition that there is still

ALL TOO MUCH to see.

Vanquished dimension goes on forever, it's painful evolution immediate.

Apparent longing packaged, protected from collective trauma.

The veil becomes thin.

Perpetual sequence moves forward.

I am propelled through normalcy.

I miss you.

I will always miss you.

Today tomorrow, and forever there will be no difference.

This conjured sameness.

I will never reach it's limit.

-Heather Smith-Gearns