Fringes missing
truth hides in the blur
the shape of absence
too much to bear.
Indian paint brush, quiet
as a crack in the floor,
sweeps the line
forged at the black moon
in rites older than first sin.
I feel the broken place.
My watercolor painting was digitally enhanced by duplication, rotation, palette distortion. It surprises me to see how a real image can be manipulated to an entirely different view with a few keystrokes.
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