{"id":99443,"date":"2021-06-27T00:32:44","date_gmt":"2021-06-27T04:32:44","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=99443"},"modified":"2021-06-27T00:32:44","modified_gmt":"2021-06-27T04:32:44","slug":"retinal-scan-galaxy-hour-sixteen-2021","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2021\/06\/retinal-scan-galaxy-hour-sixteen-2021\/","title":{"rendered":"RETINAL SCAN GALAXY – Hour Sixteen (2021)"},"content":{"rendered":"

RETINAL SCAN GALAXY<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

an entire life lived in reverse might include a detail like finding your sight<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 before you even knew you were missing it<\/span><\/p>\n

oddly enough no one knows their world\u2019s not fuzzy til they see its edges<\/span><\/p>\n

I remember gasping in wonder at the individuated leaves on autumn trees<\/span><\/p>\n

I remember pointing with delight at an ordinary sparrow on a branch<\/span><\/p>\n

an entire world had just unfolded so far away from my fingertips<\/span><\/p>\n

where only physicists and astronomers could grasp the complexity of my joy<\/span><\/p>\n

stars and atoms receding into an infinite mandala of mess and meaning<\/span><\/p>\n

like the fruit or flowers which had just been impressions of color\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 on a far-away tabletop<\/span><\/p>\n

monet and lilies for an ordinary suburbia through my nearsighted eyes<\/span><\/p>\n

so sometimes in the dark or while driving I still practice with my hands<\/span><\/p>\n

the sight that only my fingertips and palms can understand<\/span><\/p>\n

how each object holds its edges a certain way, with a certain firmness<\/span><\/p>\n

or softness, how the pieces of a lighter fit together and the metal is smoother<\/span><\/p>\n

how a lighter feels nothing like mascara, how mascara feels nothing like a pen<\/span><\/p>\n

which feels nothing like lipgloss, in spite of being only an assortment of plastic tubes<\/span><\/p>\n

how each of these are known first to the hand without the eye\u2019s mediation<\/span><\/p>\n

how our eyes teach us an arbitrary sensation for every object we hold<\/span><\/p>\n

how a pack of cigarettes is never mistaken for a wallet or vice versa<\/span><\/p>\n

one delight devoid of color folded in the firmament of the body\u2019s baggage<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

a sphere alone to ten thousand uses<\/span><\/p>\n

overlooked in a tragically literal sense<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

RETINAL SCAN GALAXY   an entire life lived in reverse might include a detail like finding your sight \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 before you even knew you were missing it oddly…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1491,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-99443","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/99443","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1491"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=99443"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/99443\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":99458,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/99443\/revisions\/99458"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=99443"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=99443"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=99443"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}