There is still time to enter
the National Geographic
Traveler Photo Contest
or you can just continue
to sit in the intersection
of that guttural
and instinctive color appreciation
that for sighted people
provides answers to questions
we never thought to ask
and envy.
(That's cool too.)
As a child this poet
asked a parent
if it were possible
to record dreams
not because they were spectacular
(and sometimes the most
mundane ones
were given the most explication
of all their insignificant details)
but because
the black (or even blue)
formations she scribbled onto a page
would become something subjective
in a reader's mind
which was well and good
but still no match
for those randomly-firing neurons
that gave her those
"real-photolistic" ineffable
and ephemeral
pre-dawn splashes of color.
This poem © 2014 Emily Cooper.
