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Within its cloak of onionskin,
the eye of light

is always vanishing –

the way the heart sinks
in the afternoon.

The sea like a dead cat,
the sea full of lions.

Of lava-glows
and taffy-colored starfish,

sea lions who pluck
the sea-strings.

In the end, everyone
goes, said the man

who drowned the bag of cats.
Who would die on safari.

On one calf,
a branded wave of light,

a trace of ink-blue
stitchwork, still glows

under fluorescence.

It's all I know of one way
or the other.


words: Janelle Elyse Kihlstrom, Washington (blue trajectory)
image: 'Elsewhere' - Cathrine Lødøen, Norway (snapshots)


another eye of light: For the moment (#18)


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BluePrintReview - issue 26 - identity