It wasn’t amber.
It was light pretending
to be amber because
the leafless purple branches
said so—
their shadows crosshatched the window,
twenty-four panes of silence.
Distant shoes whispered down a hallway.
I turned my head,
but the glow stayed where it was.
The walls were shadow—
blue, absorbing everything.
A cart rattled past my door,
metal on tile,
a music I didn’t understand.
Somewhere, a voice laughed
and then quieted.
The air smelled clean,
like alcohol and cotton,
and the ghost of a gesture
that had been wiped away.
I had no words for color,
or luminescence,
or even myself—
or the warm bars of the crib,
the press of the sheet,
and the ache of something missing
I couldn’t name.
I watched the window’s dimming burn
like a promise made to someone else
and already being forgotten.
Outside, a branch moved,
but I didn’t know it meant wind.
Categories:
crosshatched, childhood, color, identity, light,
Form: Free verse
DRAWINGISTA da vinci michelangelo
the
triumphal
arch
expressing
simp!icity
ready-to-hand
graphite
encased
pen
ink
chalk
charcoal
shaded
& crosshatched
imparted
by
tender
touch
Categories:
crosshatched, art,
Form: Didactic
A fickle pickle occurs when a barytic agent is introduced. Moving onward to eat one of the tainted fruits, the result is shameless drunken bacchanal behavior. Vomiting may produce sintered clumps. Extralinguistic speech may occur with reversionary doubting crosshatched with psychical deformities of the tongue. Curdling spital may also be present. Unspecific hallucinations, plainspoken tales of oblong and moist body parts usually follow within 24 hours. Momentous as all this may seem, one must be ready for even more animated behavior.
Summing up, if you eat a fickle pickle you will become nutty in thought, word and deed!
(constructed with words from Poetry Soup random word generator.)
Categories:
crosshatched, cheer up,
Form: Prose
her bones
were pretty
like the rest of her
it hard to say
the flesh curved
flowed into stalks and fruit
legs and hips
breasts and torso
throat and long flowing hair
her eyes
in a nudeness gleamed
such contours to her mysterious geometry.
i took the penciled
and transformed her
uncovered her
into a herd of cubes
a orbit of globes
a hymn of Cylinder
a lotus of pyramids....
but somehow
the shapes did not suffice
or reflect the planes of her perspective
and so i drew a secret shape
from heroine surface
i buried deep
my desires my fingers mapped
a little shadow
i discovered
in the weave of her ribs
a serenity crosshatched in a navel
the foretelling of a breath
and a pout
my lines discovered
on the corners of her chin
the blossom of fulness
on a lip
found a sweep of redness across cheek
sweetness like the morning
against the smoothness of paper.
Categories:
crosshatched, devotion, imagination, inspirational, introspection,
Form: Free verse