Criticism Of A Self Portrait

*This poem is a product of Art-spiration, thanks to the wonderful images of Bonnie from original art studio
and the folks over at one stop poetry , enjoy...


*ALSO SUBMITTED FOR JINGLE POETRY'S POTLUCK WEEK 44  "PAINTING WHISPERS"

A coil of white ink
extends itself
from the slightest tract of
soft-tissue; a pale membrane aquiesces-
a diligent breath diffuses
beneath a gate of ribs.

This cord
of many sinewous strings;
traverses the narrow alley intersecting
my-self
and
a muraled door, opposing me.

Pirouetting
with the feathered atoms
of hydrogen
and oxygen, along its way;
it has become a wire,
now vibrating.

Its' entrance
into the mural;
although surreptitious, is marked
by a point;
a small hole consisting of
infinite dimensions, each one
flaring out from its epicenter;
tremorous arteries
siphoning and examining
small samples of color
from the strange skin of canvas.

As the fiberous vessels
begin to grasp the mural's edges,
its tarnished surface
subtly resembles a mirror,
splintered and fractured,
in which I can detect faint shadows
of my-self; opaque projections
of an old color film.

I am, now-
two murals;
reflecting upon each other
the infinite array of chroma
and the absense of it.