Straight at the Sun
This week's poem, as always, with a touch of Aphantasia.
Cresting the hilltop, driving right at the blinding disc of the sun star bright as it floats down to the sea, a balloon of light losing helium. Five lanes of fast glass and steel, a hundred cars snake down the slow smooth curves of hills in a lazy slalom at eighty miles an hour. We drive as one, aware, all hands quiet on the wheel, soft, no motion abrupt, blinded, with our eyes asquint, brief peripheral glances edgewise between painted yellow lines, and the sound of tires, the cues we have to guide us. Also however,… that which we can only see without looking.
Thank you for reading. Here’s another poem.
My initial post has more about Aphantasia. Have a look, and the poems might make a different kind of sense.
Please share this with any aphants you might have in your life. I am highly curious to know if any of this resonates with others whose mind’s eyes are dark.
—Alex
Glimpses at the Dark can be delivered every week.