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Array
(
[sid] => 131019
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => A Crack in the Darkroom Wall
[time] => 2007-01-25 23:33:52
[hometext] => In this poem, I connected the idea of a person's struggle to express themselves the way they wish to with photography. The idea is that people take photos in their minds every day, but can never show them in their original form to anyone else.
[bodytext] => The photos are locked in my head for safekeeping. Even with shy intent, no matter how elegant or eloquent, they can never accurately represent, reflections only translated to a certain extent. Chemicals poison the frames. Here the temperature is to blame - somehow off like the eerie warmth in tepid foreign waters in February That only stay true by name. Edges of the film, a bumbling tint, never-seen ladders of crisscrossing hints, jut out of the easel and onto the paper leaving disconnected brands on the print. Wispy scratches, swirly fingerprints from grease, Settle on the presentation at peace, declaring a visa on the interrupted trip from mind to misunderstood masterpiece. But there is a crack in the wall of my darkroom Small enough for the risky spotlight to be lost in the shadows, but Big enough for the tiniest corner of your iris to peer into the workshop, revealing a sticky silhouette hanging wet negatives from clothespins. And that alone is enough to expose you to a hundred years of portfolios, a thousands miles of curly, virgin film, and a million pints of blood still blue. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 221 [topic] => 73 [informant] => amoamare [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 8 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => abstract )
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