One color sits there
having gathered purple,
orange, and gray:
mauve, I suppose.
Another gathers only
light blue and pink,
conceding to lilac.
Green disguised as blue
conspires to march
against my eyes
invading my sensibilities
The last bares all:
(prev. pub. in littlesnake broadside #43,
Rattlesnake Press, 2008)
PEANUT BUTTER BROWN
My fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Brown
wagged her finger in my face, Why
have you finger-painted with peanut
butter, instead of finger paints?
I’ll teach that teacher not to wag
her finger-painted finger in my face.
Let’s face it, I wagged, There’s no
better peanut-butter-brown than
peanut butter, Mrs. Brown.
Turquoise, being the curious color
of the future, propels me forward.
It’s the stuff of dreams in visions of
turquoise: flying geese which
usually waddle are now riding blue-
green bicycles down cherry lanes
in teal garden parks. London-blue
dogs sniff at turquoise nuggets which
dot the off-blue landscape. Sprinklers
sprinkle lawns at 5 am with a pale
version of aquamarine.
By now, I suspect the very nerves
of my spinal cord are a deeper shade
of turquoise. Turquoise won’t
leave me alone.
HOT PINK AT 11:00 PM
Hot pink—it’s comin’ at me.
Hot pink—it’s all around me.
All I see is hot pink.
All I did all afternoon
with all those hot pink beads
was make hot pink bead bracelet
after hot pink bead necklace
until my mind is pink.
I think my mind is pink;
at least, I think too much pink.
I close my eyes, my hot pink eyes,
and see all those hot pink beads,
and feel the necklace
around my neck.
The hot pink necklace is not
a necklace I should be wearing,
at least not wearing to bed.
When one first absorbs Sepia
there is a settling at the center.
I suppose the emotion is best
described as a settling in.
causes confusion, an unsettling
of the settling.
I have often wandered away
from Sepia into a desire for
complicated color—a shaking-up
of my focus, and a misguided
guiding of my direction.
Without Sepia, my Compass,
I am simply lost.
Hints of Spelunking: dripping
dark waters of an underground
tavern where they serve beer
and pretzels from a dark
bluish-purple box. One can hear
an echoed crunch sound,
and the sound of boots hitting
rock, as ropes tighten and sway
on the way down.
Dark Indigo, indicative of a
certain Captain Nemo, so far
under water he had to form a
League of 20,000—sort of a
League of Nations, except the
only citizens were sea urchins...
which are light indigo. They
had no voting rights, no one is
certain who was represented.
But it is well-known that
Captain Nemo’s favorite color
was Dark Indigo.
THE COLOR ICE WHITE
—Carol Louise Moon
Ice white is too close for comfort. It
begs perfection, daring me to mark or
mar. It’s stiff ease betrays a weakness
(I’m sure) due to the fact that it
requires light to fulfill its austerity.
Our thanks to Carol Louise Moon for sharing some poems and pix with us from her fine “Color Conspiracy” series!
Tonight at 6pm is the last of the NaPoWriMo prompt-writing workshops at Sac. Poetry Center, facilitated tonight by Bethanie Humphreys. And at 7pm, Speak Up presents poems and stories on the theme of “Tributes” at Avid Reader on Broadway in Sac. Scroll down to the blue column (under the green column at the right) for info about these and other upcoming poetry events in our area—and note that more may be added at the last minute.
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.