A Dream of Color

The world’s rich colors are unobtainable,

like love from the mother of indifference.

I long for electric blue,

sweet pink,

royal purple.

 

My terrible snow covers my table,

the bed.

Although the documentary on TV blares art black and white,

the sound is muted.

Color

A world of color is rich,

is all I need in this fog as heavy as malevolence.

What I need is a glass of hot pink,

an elixir of glowing purple,

a tincture of pool blue,

languid and electric.

My atrocious capsules of snow lay beside my ginger ale

on my bedside table

while a documentary on contemporary

art stabs me in shades of black and white,

Sound muted.

The Gaping O

 

I am an absence of air.

Paris writes me telling me not to come.

Many things have fallen

into the gaping O of love.

 

My sick senses stretch like a violin note over

a ghostly concert hall.

Halls are caverns.

I have a hall inside my city

And he waits there.

He has a bomb wrapped like a gift,

I the suction of quicksand.

A Love Like October

Singing into the bush

a lilac on a lark.

A love like October,

orange and fast.

The lilac has a heated language,

a boiling pattern of speech.

Frost is mute,

Abused,

Sinful.

The lilac leans toward the Bush

A waxy, evergreen sun,

needing shelter.

Pumpkins fight with lilacs.

Frost is the winner who takes all.

Water

Look up water.

See what books,

so fearful of the subject,

refuse to stay.

Flowers gasp to stay afloat.

His desires spirit him away.

His desire to finger the piano,

her

with or without her face.

The touch of her mind on the water

regal red.

Life and I do not care who we have.

He is

crunched afterbirth.

Untitled

Still life of stamps and ink pads.

 

Isn’t color wonderful? Extra Vivid color can turn a plain photograph into something full of life. I love playing with the color settings on my phone camera using the b612 selfie app. I use the setting called Sheep. It makes the colors really bright and vivid and brings out highlights and shadows.

Anorexia

A forbidden food is silly

but demonic and understandable

on a Tuesday when you clock in

(If people can turn clock into a verb for such

nefarious purposes, they need to stay away from my sofa and window.)

and you feel five feet wide and are at least 1.

Chocolate bars are exotic and exciting. Do not listen to

the pizza. He will charm you out of your 2s and into 10s.

Eat your salad.

It wants to die,

is dying,

wants you to follow along.

Ignore the demeaning soda. It hates you.

Your teeth whither.

Why are all the women in bigger sizes so much smaller than you?

Your bones shrink at the reproach.

Yellow

Yellow reads the Kama Sutra

to write a new edition.

I admire her.

She admonishes me.

Lately I have rotted like wood,

muddled like a puddle.

Where is my orgasmic frenzy of doing

and being done?