top of page
  • YouTube
  • Black Twitter Icon
  • Black Facebook Icon
  • Black Instagram Icon

painted poem #19/21

Writer's picture: prarthoprartho

Updated: Sep 15, 2020

Moth-Eaten



If my friend giovanni is right and each snap of the lens snatches another piece of us, then

my Kodachrome-ridden self is nothing but holes—a moth-eaten version of Indra’s Net, where my tangled knots catch the light

of the endless jewels of morning. Nothing in all her singing glory

happens. And everything is shot-through with mirrored light

until there is nothing but the joyful

whole

© Prartho Sereno, unpublished, uncollected poem

59 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Comments


prartho sereno: journeys to the interior

© 2023 by Prartho Sereno; all rights reserved 

  • Google+ Social Icon
  • Twitter Social Icon
  • Facebook Social Icon
bottom of page