And portraits

[joel]

And portraits pass the landscape fields by far
as art – and verily; emotions flown
in vibrancies of wavelength light upon
my voyeuristic tendencies to stare,
to quietly compare myself to those
whose full dimensions gave their way to flat—
I long to cup your face, caressingly
with fingered eyes, and melt suppressingly
to masterpieces of a moment that
relieves my passibility and owes
me naught but now (and now forever), bare
and beautiful: a human face so drawn
to lone communicate its simple
own existence; so forceful portraits are.