[faded brights 3]

again, not so fast;

prepared, colors fade into honest thoughts of themselves-

pastels propelled, tired clouds collecting into a sky of

something …

something protected, or maybe even forever.

the weather,

drifting dark into light-

i am traveling through daylight

and fading into a forgiven thought of myself-

shades faith and days we love;

i float along lines of reflective pieces

and welcome the will of the next season.  ~

 

[painted]

theres a sadness in the backdrop to the stars, tonight;

a wetness in the paint – something less finished than i’d like.

the stars, at least, are still stars –

oiled light for midnight, and they burn

and almost seem to blur in a hope- –

God if i could have the strength to cope and know

  that tomorrow will come, anyhow.  ~

[gravity]

ironing out the inevitable,

the heaviness of metals, like led,

(i can still hear)

sleek chilled water
washes over black coal in the night;

it ebbs, and lets
in the light.

improving the aperture,

the dilution of ink as it bled.

(can’t be far now; so i try my joints:)

i can still feel.~

[ode to analemma]

I could not turn from her;

I fixed myself on the line between my reality and her light.

It was comforting to be loved

And to watch Love bend with light;

Ascend with grace; give life its shape –

Beautiful Analemma.