I first see you in a gray hat tilted acutely over your right brow. The glint in your eye follows me. Your makeup modestly smoothes your face into shadows of round, soft triangles- lines that reflect your thoughts but cannot discern the shadow of your soul. Painting and person together- like absurd Sunday mornings, washed in sun, while lovers bask under sheets- making promises for the nth time. Echo of a dog's bark. Five blocks away, between early morning worshippers, there are those who shout first and leave last from the dim speak-easys in early Monday fog. They do not have to love. Are the differences always so great that there are never compromises? Are the comparisons always so sure that differences become inevitable? carlyle miller revised 7/99
Shadow's Light shadows footprints of light shuffling across landscapes old gray ghosts trotting alongside a conservative sun walking upright straight with obedience preached by einstein shadows of light stumble in darkness ignore the sermon give comfort to the heated fallen like the black heathen in ultimate rebellion this ancient rebel shines
