Sunday, August 25, 2013


I am pinned down by fire,
that has taken up residence.
It rides with me,
like fungus under a nail.
Somewhere, deeper behind the scene
it can be pulled under,
meadowed by its imagination.
Brown is greening.

Behind the barn a lovely bird
waits to be seen.
I have seen it thrice.
Each time it blurs
as it lifts.
I catch a color,
different each time.
Has it arrived or
is it leaving?
Smalt, mulberry, canary.

More of what I see
is less recognized.
More of what I feel
trumps the unrecognized.
I correct myself:
The movement is not
in my mind,
it is my mind.
Add color for definition.