Tag Archives: Blue

Street

Shuttered, close to mute, street’s ebbing pulse, gently clasped– painter’s cede to blue. Advertisements

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Sylvia in Blue

Gauging twilight’s depths, the poet draws blinds to dream– Hope, worn to silence.

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Pillow

Heaven-rent pillow, to have, to hold, to protect– Fall wind blowing cold.

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Lake

Lady of the lake of sorrows and penitence– How deep is your blue?    

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Nocturne

By intent of wraith, shadow capes fullest fathoms– Sentenced to dreaming.  

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Passage

Winter’s privilege, to see inside a snowflake– faeries passage home.

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Vein

Crepuscular dames hoarding rain in barrowed hearts– magic’s brooding vein.

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Bones & the Blue

My uncle was a full blown junkie. He was rail-thin, a mongrel with no bite. I liked hanging out with him. He had a sweetness and gentleness to him. He was a soft whisper whereas my father was a volcanic … Continue reading

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Yellow is the Color of my Sad

Yellow is the color of my sad, how it runs. Some think it is blue but it is not. Blue is the common choice for color/me/sad, the popular one (how moods get typecast), but yellow is much sadder than blue, … Continue reading

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Tinder

In this lighted instance, a storm-watch of gold bearing the heft of silence and time, slowed. Blue shoulders the collapse of heaven, it is the Atlas underlay, the muscle cloud formation. When the painter dies, this tindered vault will inherit … Continue reading

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