Each angle covered, pair of eyes
delighted by their vision, circled
apprehensions, scratching charcoal,

pencils, nibs, the axle of attention
holds beneath metallic ribs, the arching
chest of roof. I try to duplicate

the rise and fall, the curving swells
of light and shadows, paralleling
crescents, shaded hollows, straining

cords of muscles, flesh. The profile
aims one moving orb, one peaking breast,
red-brown erected nipple. Finger:

I can feel the melody of spirits
played, connecting what is out
side to the flowing energies within:

the complicated essences, evoking
soul, the dancing lines, the forms.

Bill Vernon

If you've any comments on his poem, Bill Vernon would be pleased to hear from you.