Sunday, March 26, 2017

Night is a timepiece on color and other such things

You know, that precise moment when the evening sky knows for sure that indigo is about to happen. Or is this a fish's perspective on scales?  Or music's take on its staff?  For sure, night is a spiral of open-ended questions.  I'm thinking this image is paper as a poem is written across the dream.  Or a plate when a seasonal salad is offered upon its bones.  Or the prismatic speech of glass.  Yes, that.

1 comment:

  1. IOS

    You get the sense of whimsy, do you not, in the buckles of shoes and belts whose time has come to retire. Just discarding such leather and lace makes one joyful, lighter, prolific with gratitude for the act of negation. Making more room on a shelf is a sacred act, as mowing the fields, as using up the jars of pickles, as cooking up a scheme to take up the afternoon. Oh my heat's just gone on, so I must run--saving energy, saving money, saving face...