The dim, weak light only appears beautiful when there is so much darkness surrounding it.
Fluorescence draws the eye to anything other than the light.
We can get so used to it.
We can make ourselves so blind.
But I would rather have a warm soft glow
Than the harsh phosphorescence of cylindrical bulbs
Snapping on strings above and about my head,
And I’d certainly rather have that
Watercolors drip down the white wall you’ve built between us
(at least you cared enough to make it beautiful)
And I only hope my cadence scribbled in Crayola will find it’s way to you.
Continue reading “Steel Blue”
No longer a dog
I’m beginning to think in color again
What’s your favorite
I’ll make it into a film to put over my eyeglasses
Even if it’s black
Sometimes the blind can see more than others
And I must be
Continue reading “Periwinkle”