Depth of Field

Exit Wound

Depth of Field

Out among the disappeared

Light seems illegal and deviant

Eerie and mysteriously still

The flat-line of desires,

The ghost of former existence

Blurred away in heat-seeking focus

Smoked away the napalm sky

Crashing to the grey raving tides

Lenses zoom and point of view

Vacuums up the foreign dust

From rubbles of deaths in New Delhi

Are there enough pixels to adhere?

To white balance the sun’s

Avant-garde dissonance, the focal noise

Wind chill day of justice swayed

By the vertical jitter of cinema-verité

Light intensely accelerates into the night;

Lumbering like the golem towards his romance

In the damp gauze of moonlight

In terminal equinox, in a feverish sweat, loves satinesque

Streaming midnight movie scenes the dark room glows

Dichroic rolls as scrolls, the grassy knoll

Childhood’s unreal world; the overexposed:

The spinning, leering lovers now picturesque

The crazed mixture of drugs and money in spindles,

The molting waxen squares of plastique

The terrorists smile in pomp, our luminescence

They ask in ruse, “What is the caption?”

Is it in color, is it black and white?

Napalm sky, smoke black, fire bright

Rushes of deadline blood lost in backlight

How damaging is art to the unfocused eye…?