By Francis Scudellari
Time-tripped, my eyes stumble
In too wintry landscape,
Layers of sooty black
Piled on off-white leavings,
Mixed up-down icy grays:
Coal-slate sheeting skyward,
Once-salted tongues grounded
Become perilous slicks,
Pooled gobs of molten lead
Flash-frozen at mid creep
Fleeing, sore-sighted I
Prism-focus turn inward,
Conjure shocking new hues,
Mold robust, garish shapes
Minded primary paint
Blank-canvassed, pressed-tight flaps,
Dreamscaped memory pick
Out-of-season, myself
Swaddle in sculpted glow
Till spring blooms bright again
4 comments:
Ciao Francis!
"time tripped" - mi ricorda qualcosa...
Hi Fran, ho un meme meraviglioso per Te!
see You ;0
Ciao Hanna,
Yes, I like that word combination very much :). Thanks for the meme tag ... it looks like an interesting one.
Stopping by to enjoy your poetry.
Thanks Cooper! It makes me very happy to know that someone I admire enjoys what I do :).
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