A MATTER OF VISION
In the imperfect urn of flesh and bone
The perfect liquor of our eyes
How we make ourselves rub
At the numbed luck brute matter offers.
How we itch our imperfections
Scratch the imperfect urn of those we love.
The perfect liquor of our eyes
Allowed only the vision of the light
That defines us passing away.
GICLÉE Print $350
