Thursday, September 18, 2014

Contour Drawing

by Kat Comer

Curious, I stoop to examine
a piece of tangled wood
put in my path by chance.
Ancient eyes carved by wind and rain
pierce me with an eagle's gaze.

I enter through the eye, a pool.
Bathed in multiple textures
I crack open worlds.
Shaped by vision
landscapes form and pass away.
My pencil traces borders of
an uncommon geography.

A mere shift in angle - 
Peaks rise like the breasts
of a woman aroused
and flatten to soft planes.
Prairie grasses brushed by wind.

Layers of bark peel away centuries.
The earth is naked and hardened to bone.
A prehistoric skull stares into sun.
Shadows crouch in its sockets.
The sea is countries away.

A map of South America
sketched on the wing of a tropical bird
plunges downward to sea
The moon is a shaman's drum
rising on the tide of dream
The jungle's heart beats
Steam rises
The polished leaves of rain forest breathe.

The vision passes.
A tangled piece of wood
hangs in my window.