Tag Archives: Yellow
Runaway, androgynist, shadow-puppeteer, Neverland refugee, nimbic love-child of Edie Sedgwick and Holden Caulfield. Enter the world of Piers this November 30th. Advertisements
Suspicion assails, Why did he give this to me? The scent of a trail. (Artwork by Paul Klee)
Debutante, left to smolder and ash, traceless, in some afterlife, unannounced to the trailing cortege. (Artwork by Linda Stojak)
Bidden by tatters, and gravity’s mutable arc, the palpitations guide me. They are subtle, duly engaged, a milk-slow run of shivers. Bracing the rim, I peer out of cavedark: everything is sudden, color-soaked, a ferocious din and melt, fringed shawls … Continue reading
Man’s crisis of faith, bailing, fiercely, flames and dearth– How to birth perish.
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
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
In a state of honeyed repose, her flightless body, a constellation, draped in the sheer cloth of sunlight, as she models hidden grief to witnesses unseen by common sight.
It is what you might call omen-brushed yellow, a virulent scare, its quotient graded just below dark, and subtly so. A sky raining crows, like a scandal of mustaches, or handlebar dissent. Yellow crosses daring a blight, or braving a … Continue reading