• Vol. 08
  • Chapter 07

Self Portrait

I paint myself in three colors
Taken from a long-awaited sunrise
To see how much depth I have
In the eyes of the sky.

My hand trembles
Birch twig handle and
Stamen brush. It would do better
Dipped in ink but I
Render myself to the
Language the creek speaks as it
Communicates over smooth rock
Palettes. The wind talks back
In empty caves
Up on the mountain.

Something enters my starkness
Perhaps it is the skittering of a
Blue jay bird in a solitary
Dogwood tree or
A rainbow trout glittering
In sunburn.

There is more to me than
I know. Looking at myself
I see not my corners but Curves softening out of
The edges.