– after the painting by JeanPaul Mallozzi

And he is not a ghost who wheels his wheelbarrow down streets long and narrow.

He grips the rose like he grips the rose—

He trusts the viewer will convert his scars into light and trusts the light will reveal the scars.

His face is a landslide.

His light is his light.

And he wishes he were the rose—that quality of light found only in winter.

Billions of neutrinos will pass through his body.

It’s Tuesday, July 18th, 2013.

He questions his two faces—

the introvert and the intruder.

(Red is the only language between them.)