• Vol. 08
  • Chapter 03

New Atlantis

My rolls of film from Kodak box –
how often have I half exposed,
been forced to change in open light,
turned final number, tourist site?
Then wait, developed at the lab,
find my focus obliterate,
but yet I keep it, memory,
that flash, the streak, reminiscence.
It causes stare of concentrate,
alure beyond my clippered fence,
to ask why gaps proliferate,
what is this tarmac secret find?
So did some aliens destroy
the evidence, my photo snap –
for is this launch of bedtime tale
from grandpa, who thinks Einstein new?
Perhaps a flash to blot the view,
divert from sabotage attempt,
that Dad indoors must never know?
Chromatic play on monochrome,
this chemistry returned as art,
how do we paint in common sense,
find landing space in concrete place,
our questions, lingua franca posed,
inspire, excite, empirical?