There is an universal tendency among mankind to conceive all
beings like themselves...We find human faces in the moon and armies
in the clouds. David Hume
The anthropomorphic follows me around —
In carpets, tree bark, and abstract paintings.
“If I am the figure, what is the ground?”
Each face whispers, “or am I just feigning?”
Or am I the pretext for pretending,
I reason, a message I am sending
To cohere around the inchoate
Only I can look at and recognize?
These flickering (blinked) images sate
My comprehension, if not my eyes.
“My face will melt if you don’t look at me,”
These ghost images say repeatedly.
I too unseen uncertainly erase —
Though an unreal painting could take my place.
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