Not Even Evanescence

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Feels like I’m storm-chasing

caging beauty before it escapes,

watching precious flakes of metal

get swept away 

like fireflies on the breeze.

But I know, now, that nothing eludes

nothing evades.

Not the essential,

the essence,

not even evanescence.

It’s inside

of me

awaiting

a kind of palace.

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(above)
Autobiogenesis, 193
2019
Recycled Photo, Clay Carving Tool
4 x 4 in

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