poetry critical

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yet to be titled

on a day the
sun is uninterrupted, I
raise my hand.
it stops one inch away
from an eyeball
belonging to me, wet
and clear of
obstruction, it dilates,
blinks, for I am
astounded to see a rainbow.
my skin perspires
enough to start refracting
colors no one knew
existed, but I am aware,
now, of every pastel
one of them; it is a thing
that brings me into
silent chorus, no more
am I monochrome-
nor is anyone at all.
lift your own arm
soon; if tomorrow is bright,
all the better. look
microscopically close and
even squint a bit, yes.
do it to any surface available-
one and every one
are simple, truthful spectrums
beaming every hue
for us to choose to see.

1 Jun 06

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(4 more poems by this author)

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