Candle Eyes

20161023_121840These candles have their
eyes on me. I’m bound,
now by their not

letting me know
what they see with
their eyes’ inner eye

that still decries my
blindness to matters that
matter. Nor

can I see the
air wick eats as
it opens orb.

And yet I sit, transfixed
and inflicted with the
beauty of fire’s breath:

surely, slowly, aflame.

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6 thoughts on “Candle Eyes

  1. shoreacres says:

    It does have the power to transfix, doesn’t it? Fireplaces, camp fires, candles — they’re all so compelling, and mysterious to a degree. What is it that compels us to watch until the last embers are cold, or the wick consumed? I’m not sure, but poets watch, and write.

    • agjorgenson says:

      In our part of the world a position of some import with local Indigenous communities is that of fire-keeper. It is a current manifestation of an ancient understanding of the mystery of this force that can never quite be tamed.

  2. Transfixed and afflicted: the artist’s chosen place

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