Saturday, March 23, 2013

Music to my eyes

Just as a word,
when stared at for too long,
begins to seem misspelled,
or something other than itself,
a view, often seen,
can in some other light
take on a character not its own.

following a visit
to the barber,
your face
-- dearer and more familiar
than my own --
becomes -- however briefly --
some stranger's visage.

Today these houses,
which greet me every morning,
have suddenly become piano keys;
music to my eyes.

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