His unset eyes — containing water — become expression, or color. They cloud in changing — though the change is never marked, it may eventually be seen. The cloud is green His hand is light He watches this first finding — pulling a hand in and out of a living channel. His newness betokens him all color. He passes through color — setting each resonance for light. The sound includes experience which is remembered, though from not remote occasions, which swell upon his passing. Looking up with different thought filled hands. Why then does experience comb the onlooker away from the child, when the child includes changing eyes in every picture?
Copyright © 2005 by Laynie Browne. From Drawing of a Swan before Memory. Reprinted with permission of the University of Georgia Press.