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"This Room Is My Reflection" (by Joe DiMino)

This room is my reflection
Walls are borders-
Drums, guitar, violin;
Art in frames…
The art of frames…
Frame-less art-
Far superior to
Expressions of color,
Shapes somehow
Suggesting definition-
The art of works always in progress;
Shapes into colors…
Colors defining form…
Form oblique, distorted by colors-
Tints are imagination sliding back and forth
Stuck between forms
Seeking obliteration through new medium-
Going everywhere
To get somewhere
Or to a nowhere theme or destination-
More of interest and stimulation
Is presence, defined by feeling;
The sense of
Sense touching
And being touched by
Little of true nature
But by transformation of nature-
Not the matrix of objects
But how they allow themselves
To be seen-
And the intent of all observation
Is self-preservation,
A prerequisite for illumination;
Real art, whether of canvas or life
Cannot have borders…

There are also weapons
My deep ego somewhere still wheels-
An old photo
Of myself, a formidable warrior;
A foe that dies hard
And apparently hardly died at all,
Yet to be conquered
If I am to step from my borders-