THE MOMENT, THE NORM
You should then have to witness everything -
passing vignettes of solace and harm, the
complacent, dull homage of a million separate
lives. In that window grange, the two people
in their kitchen, eating one guesses a breakfast,
by the hour of day. The light thrown onto the
courtyard like glass from where they sit. A
dull, yellow kitchen glow somehow brought
brightly to life. A red sweater on a woman's
body, like a tea cozy on some ceramic pot.
A pottery bowl showing shape and form.
All the same, everywhere,
the moment, the norm.
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