Took Me

Steve McCurry: A Retrospective from Leica Camera on Vimeo.

Nicht Zu Fassen

Untitled

Dripping veins of the greenhouse

Flowing to first light, light gone

Chamomile and honeying dew drops into

Gold flakes for my morning eyes, eyes

Still coming to. Eyes quivering from the

Inside, unable to sit still like the wheelbarrow

Half a belly full of water and

Rusting for it. Eyes that see how

The root of red beet gathers dirt to it

In bunches like a wedding dress,

Then pushes up into the sky.

See but dont quite know how,

Or what, to do once they

Root themselves in another—

And when to harvest

The jagged blooms in your eyes?

Still, the seasons song revolves

Everlong, as do the changes

In us. I know this when, on the

Other side of day, the sky at nine is a

Royal pink heart, tissues gently pulsing—

It tells me to trust my own.

It tells me that I already know when

To plant, when to let fields lay

Fallow to think over themselves. That

I alone know when to be the

Sunset and sunrise

To your days.

India