I lost my glasses
\nsomewhere under the moon.
\nSomewhere hidden in tall weeds,
\nthe sarcophagus of the gutter.
\nLenses which saw everything.
\nThrough which light perished
\nin my eyes,
\nexposed to mystery,
\nendless words,
\ntelevision screens.
\nThey accumulated thousands of faces,
\nthe rust of dawn
\ncommingled with the blue radiance
\nof night.<\/p>\n
No name is in the case,
\nan address,
\na way to be found.
\nThey are anonymous,
\nholding years of sleep,
\nresting in a chair,
\nperching like birds on my chest,
\nfallen to the floor,
\ntethered by an invisible need.
\nFingers that have washed,
\nwiped, adjusted their surfaces,
\nuntil my fingers learned to see
\nlike the eyes of birds, fish,
\nstones through which
\nthe world moved in a colloquy
\nof color and darkness.<\/p>\n
Without my glasses
\nI am reduced,
\nshoved in a corner,
\nlistening where I once saw,
\nfeeling, where at a glance
\nI understood.
\nWithout them I am nothing
\nbut an uprooted tree,
\ncast over,
\nseeing the ground for the first time,
\nand longing for faces
\nI took for granted,
\nknowing what the blind know,
\nhow deep the heart goes
\nthrough its eyes.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I lost my glasses somewhere under the moon. Somewhere hidden in tall weeds, the sarcophagus of the gutter. Lenses which saw everything. Through which light…<\/p>\n