*
Among the decals of the flowers applied
to this green base that life rested upon,
I felt my colors clash -- and I felt wrong,
part of an uncorrected palette
that painted at a slant --
that painted images I did not want --
through a break or crack in things. My life did not
fit the world it was wedged in nor did it
deserve the daily rapture that it lived,
repeatedly, ecstatically,
its joy simply and slantedly to be
this gas of self that rose out of the flowers
loading the air with its own weight
of -- still unbalanced -- quick to dissipate.
*
No comments:
Post a Comment