looking through the backdoor screen at the neighbourhood laid out
familiar subject matter under the painter’s grid
becoming objects in perspective
each particular element tree leaves on tree
fence line particular board
studied in detail small squares separately framing just enough to write about
seeing through structures
that disappear at a deeper focal distance

thick paint blocks the left side of the composition
torn edges of tissue and triangles
and golden tangents to circumferences
horizons tree trunks fresh grass
and gaps and diagonals and vertices
and black and green and that white area
in the bottom right corner of the canvas
where the painting looks unfinished
the wheel’s still turning
spinning out lines that extend beyond the frame
something sprouts from the split shape
in the greenest part of the picture
light from the distant horizon catches a thin thread of desire

walking at night in the woods
between my childhood home and the river
fully awake and wondering in a dream both strange and familiar
particular trees reach out like lovers
breathing in their distinct rhythms
rough skins pulsating with heat
colours of their chemicals glowing with
rich greens and deep blues
druidic mysteries and radio waves
I am drawn by their yearning
their knowing and their intimacy
a filament sprouts from my hip to the nearest tree shimmering transparent
trembling with desire I am rooted in the same ground