Mr. Blake’s Skin Don’t Dirt
attributed to Catherine Blake
Because the vanishing point hovers
ridges away and miles in the distance
of gray-green oblivion
to illuminate on a nearer ridge
the white speck of a house, it opens
the mind to wonder beyond what is seen
and only dimly perceived. I like
this kind of scene—very little
is known, and yet it’s decorated
lavishly with absence. Art,
before it’s made, may be like this,
and art, when finished or left unfinished,
may be like this. And love, so long
in understanding, may be like this.
I suppose we need reflection, we need
something beyond us pointing back.
And perhaps we need to imagine a house,
no bigger than a dot on the ridge,
is the home of someone who spends the morning
or evening dabbling in beauty,
or having elevated thoughts
on what makes beauty beautiful
and how something missing is key.
And perhaps we need to look at the world
and imagine something that isn’t there
and then imagine something that is.
