Bluffton University

Woven Light

by Adam Zhou

flirting in the closet. stop. someone pulling away threads --

advertisements for museums,               closed,
                        but not locked.
it’s a window.            untitled, 1992. oil on canvas?
            no, just a reflection.

— painting them in ochre colors —

                      the son of man has only moved itself
            further into pollock’s                        panorama.
            the persistence of memory
trapped within la grande chatte’s flood water

— and still the canvas is something to be felt, not looked at —

             expressionism wrinkles
             itself within the human experience.
                  if only the dynamism of it all
unfurled         itself to the streets outside.

— or maybe the lisping voices from behind  —

                       imagine hands           smothered
over a parallel universe.    hiding.
            they clasp onto the melted pigments,
still seeing the dawn,                       the borrowed body.

— will reveal the self sacrifice. a rhythm so fluidly perpetual.