Sunday, November 22, 2009

a hair is such a simple thing

then I noticed that one of your rebellious golden strands
had flown awry from a crucible winged with the wilted brass of quills,

had pierced the imagined golden fabric of my pompous fleece
with a sinuous mythology that was tenacious
and prompted, to a ticket holder entranced by teal,
an ancient head of expertly burnished copper-

then that almost bronzed and autumn needle
suddenly, in refracted sunlight, opened

into a kaleidoscope irresistibly imagined and,

serendipitously shadowless,

waltzed so dreamily into such a blond captivation

that I am captured to this eternal yellow day
by a flickering prism of luminous mineral glass:

periwinkle, burnt sienna, forest green-

when I am feeling confessional, especially,

I am still confused by the red and violets

and

I embrace, as always, periwinkle,
but not so much the continuous bland reflections
of that new and awkward chrome-

I have heard that, occasionally,
for the want of a better watch,
time fritters away in a perfect rhapsody:

I heard also, reluctantly,
that there are things,
especially blasphemous,

things that are mortal
mostly to the young.

5 comments:

  1. Really enjoyed the images here; how you've dealt with the different colours.

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  2. Made me weep... it was the periwinkle softness of your words.

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  3. I've enjoyed browsing your latest poems, you've got a real way with words, some wonderful phrases here...

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  4. "then that almost bronzed and autumn needle
    suddenly, in refracted sunlight, opened

    into a kaleidoscope irresistibly imagined"

    Marvelous. All of it.

    And I'm drawn in by the periwinkle. A favorite word. A favorite crayon. My favorite color.

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  5. @Marcy: You're going way back in more ways than one. 1) I had forgotten this piece until your comment. Thanks for reminding me. 2) Everything about periwinkle made my childhood magical. Still has that resonance for me.

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Yes?