Stygian blue, a poem

at first just a single color appeared to me
aubergine
like the faintest hint of dawn
then, a few minutes later
ultramarine
like the eyes of a newborn baby
quickly following that
coral
like so many tropical seas
before I knew it
all manner of colors arrived
in a flash of word association
bend of the knuckle
skin of the egg
russet, plum, and soursop
elderberry, date, and endive
sunburnt flesh
hyperbolic orange
stygian blue

abandoned car in Death Valley

Glue, a poem

I make art
one drawing after another
some with leaves in the trees
some with no leaves
some with brown grass
some with green
watercolors flow from brushes
onto tree-filled landscapes
collages arise from construction paper
red, yellow, green, and blue
pasted together into intricately detailed shapes
I love the waxy feel of crayons pressed hard
scratched-off layers of wax
paper bent from watercolor
swirls of colors that haven’t fully dried
I love the stiff feeling of clay that hasn’t been pulled yet
the softer, warmer feel of it after it is kneaded
the feel of paper stuck to paper
the smell of glue

intricate collage

The sequence above was taken from my novel-in-progress Glue and finessed a bit to turn it into a poem. The main character is (like me) an artist and (unlike me) likes making collages. I made the collage above when I was a college student. It is a study of the scene outside my dorm window.

Colors, a poem

I dreamt of color
cerulean blue
cadmium orange
antimony yellow
pyrrole red
sage, russet, and plum
persimmon, vermilion, and rose
gamboge, the color of resin
falu, the color of Swedish cottages
I saw breathing walls
breathing hands
dancing cobblestones
moving words
swirls of smoke
shirts that rearranged their fibers
tints that mixed and floated away
chimerical, hyperbolic, imaginary
a halo of a fade of a wash


Image source: Plants and Their Application to Ornament (1896)