Colors Slipping Sideways In Time Poem by Denis Mair

(In response to Chaled Res' painting 'Which is this that I am, ' dated Dec.22,2023)
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Looks like a diorama conceived in a time before mass media...

in the naive eyes of a villager, bringing a frisson of secret intentions...

the colors ask where are my naive eyes? ...

An alternate space hiding a body like in Duchamp's last artwork...

a sanctum or a dream factory...

obscure fumblings to repair the dike holding back nothingness...

machinations from backstage to set the tone of a daytime mood...

or negotiations among colors slipping sidewise in time...

allowed to linger indefinitely...allowed to be liminal...

each color following its own inner twilight...

evoking a child's first impulse to daub color without referentiality...

every new vein of abstraction is the first abstraction...

verticality starts anew from each humble garden patch...

it can only be verified by growing on a trellis...

otherwise even the vertical is just an obscuring layer