Brian Teare b_teare@yahoo.com

There are two endless directions. In and out.

afternoon

cloud cover alters symmetry’s

brief virtue trellis and shadow classic image

illness posits it as a question

two late T’ang dishes

will mind or body one flowering

one empty be the first fugitive clarity

of a day’s gray scale study

Brian Teare b_teare@yahoo.com

I pretend I was looking at the blank page. I look into my mind and see nothing my immediate effort as in all arts all opposites dead to the world is form yet technique is a hazard

metaphor allows my own illness my body to be both the tool I use language and nest with much exertion less weaving I press and knead than condensation the materials

beaten blended welded together

the meaning of suffering hidden from me perhaps now I can really enjoy writing

Brian Teare b_teare@yahoo.com 3

We seem to be winning and losing, but there is no losing.

after the War unable to eat unbidden the image

food was scarce now often returns unable to write

her grandmother unable to read usually more

gently used the tip as color ivory I thought

of her right forefinger of the story interior flecked

to scrape each red sometimes she told me eggshell clean as a parable more as sound

her forefinger careful scratches tip against paper