Selections from Fall Poetry 2015


Color me,
but color me bright
In star spins and pink rose
in deep swaths of night
Dipping diamond fingertips
With skin blushed pristine
My heart bends to drink from
your mind’s silver stream
Compose me with shivers
Vibrations sharp and loud
clean crispness of quivers
your teal voice delivers
Paint me in your landscapes
not large but, always there
Patient, waiting, breathless
Give me soft strokes to wear
I’ll sit ever in your corners
Glow ever in your care.


I like the color purple
It’s obstuse. Hard to get
to cooperate or use
Especially in clothing
Which I’m supposing
Is due to the face that most just don’t look good in purple.
Like it refuses to be worn.
I’ve torn down and I’ve been torn
And maybe if I was more purple
I’d carry less scars and sins
I so admire those untucked souls
Floating and tasting
Every salty breeze that tickles their neck
Or ice chill. Or muted scorch.
They carry the fairy dust
That allows them to float up
Their lusty eyes torch
With storms of purple within them
In them
Purple sparks impact
Whispered secrets of spitfire heavens
To purple hearts

T.S. Eliot

Until my blood turned to rain
Only it never did
I tiptoed towards the blue moon
And from my red I hid
But I fear they followed
And licked my ankles as I walked
The flames of my mad darkness
of which I ne’er talked
You’ve been the mountain crystal
Of softened sweetened grass
With angles pearl and round
unlike my jagged glass
And I wish I would cease flaming
My violent burst of gold
Are pretty yes, but vicious
Despite their heat, they’re unbearably cold
I stare and love and marvel
At your sweeping murmured moves
And bite my lip in terror
At all I have to lose
my blood refuses to be rainwater
My tongue won’t dull its teeth
and yet you remain liquid
Mine, for now at least.


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