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Dune House, Bethany Beach

How is it the ocean has salt-bleached
the vaporous sky and the beach,
but the house remains a chocolatey brown?
Has the wood darkened in the weather,
or is it new, untouched? And what tells us
a gradual slope rises toward the house,
not a green and sandy wall?
And where are we standing? On an
adjacent dune? In mid-air? For surely
we look from above upon the cattails,
from across at the house.

And how is it we know we could see
out through that hazy blue dormer window,
though we cannot see in? And how
does this hill of golden light
support the heavy darkness of this house?
And what makes us feel these blips and blobs
of yellow, green, brown, red and rust
are varied vegetation we could name
if only we could look a little closer
(if only there were a closer closeness),
those sprawling blue smudges, shadow?

And whence comes all this space?
Here is a smallish room, a small
rectangular painting. Light from a
small bulb strikes walls and makes
ineluctable our limitations, strikes
this painting and releases
endless flowing space.

Is this a snare that captures light
and turns it into the space of dreams?

Dean Blehert

Last Updated: October 6, 2002

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