Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Out of Prism

Out of Prism
by Gideon Burton

As though I were a dark and sandy waste
that pressured proof had furnaced -- watch me melt
into a fragile glass, unshaped, unfaced,
but knocked to shards. It is the way I've felt,
as though this scrap of brittle crazy glass
lay muted till the quiet, steady rays
of sunlight touched my edge and through me passed,
in prism colors wedging through the haze.
What's this? Somehow unwoven, whitest light
refracted in the fragment, spilling blue
and orange, ivory and green. My sight
dispersed across a spectrum, seeing through.
     Opaque with peace, this had not been my course,
     without the heat, the melting, breaking force.

Photo: flickr - jcburns

1 comment:

  1. Reading this and listening to Karen sing her latest--it's a Burton kind of evening. : )