Unspectacular

April is Poetry Month.  I enjoy poetry and decided my writing for this post would be a poem.  April isn't over yet.  I hope to add a few more poems before the month is over.  MMM

My eyes feel hollow with craving.

I need colors, shapes, lines.

Blobs, textures, depth.

I feel my eyes flit from side to side, searching for works of art.

Beginning to half-open as they half-shut,

they become numb in their search.

Blinded by the unspectacular, they lose sensitivity.

Grey cement, red brown brick.

Blackish Mulch, pieces of splintered wood. 

Dirty from a winter under snow.

Empty beer bottle, ripped Kroger flier.

One black glove, coated with salt and dirt.

Walking into an art exhibit,

I find my eyes tensely opening.

"Your eyes will feast, rest and be dazzled," I hear myself justify this detour from the streets.

Walking and turning, I lift my cup to be filled.

I tip my head to get lost in the details of the blue-green sky.

I squint to find paths through the rocks and grasses.

Expectations begin to grip me, lecture me.

My mouth feels dry, as I read descriptions of each art piece.

Menus of subject, style, technique.

Distracted, I begin to look at the wood grain in the frames,

The little bent-up corner, unevenly matched at the joint.

The tiny dark nails, gently driven.

Then the floor tiles, then the light coming through the crowded potted plants

sitting by a small window in the hallway.

The hallway.

The exit.

I gasp for breath as I step through the heavy door, to the steps, leading to the street.

No Vibrant Colors Needed

Construction on Miller

Spectacular

The light and shadows lift up each piece of the ordinary.

Filtering the light, the clouds move the art before me.

Walking shadows. Spinning car tire. Flitting birds.  Bundles wrapped in wiggling baby blankets.

Refletive shop windows. Textured jogging shoes.

Leashed, zigzagging dogs.  Newspapers holding a man's hand out at the street corner.

Canes moving up and down.  Colored purses swinging.

The Goddess of Traffic Signals

New Buds of Spring

Kerrytown Bike Stands

Maniquin Greeting Customers

Door in Kerrytown, Ann Arbor

Store Corner On Main, Ann Arbor

3 Chairs in a Window
(Like 3 Coins in a Fountain)

Ornate Railing

Near Public Library, Ann Arbor

I stop to eat and drink, savoring the flavor.

My eyes rest, wide open. 

How did I miss bits of colored glass caught in the cracks of the grey cement.

The snarled roots coming up through the mulch.

The tiny purple flowers among the splintered wood.
Unspectacular works of art.

Menorah Seen Through Tinted Windows