A River Mist

You may soon have a chance to
test our assumptions. There’s a
difference between accuracy and
truth but in these sunlit waters

colour is everywhere. Why should
we put this right? What’s the answer?
“It’s wasted time,” she said. Meanwhile,
you can always feel at home in the midst

of a crowd. Collecting may be a
form of sickness but vanity is always
about vulnerability and art is a lie
which helps us to reveal the truth.

This feels like a time of great
danger. “Right on,” she said, “right on.”




Steve Spence
Picture Rupert Loydell

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One Response to A River Mist

    1. What a poem! Got me going which is very tiring! Language is the liar, the converter. It converts. Nouns are not too bad…..fairly loyal. But verbs! Oh the dance of verbs; how they reel, slipslide, court their opposites, the sacred, the fractals. And how they release the image, the metaphor.
      Loved Rupert’s illustration too! Look at the hands the eyes ……don’t listen to the words if I want momentary truth. But of course I have missed something!

      Comment by Mary Maher on 19 June, 2021 at 11:59 am

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