Posted by in Poetry, Writing

the white white of the walls twilight of evening your arms suffused in indigo glow reflect and our child’s little teeth gleaming in the darkness will each speak laughingly of Roosevelt’s daughter then the sheen of that feather Klein Corvidae against the green grass in a pale lunar rouge and the tips of those two claws trembling azure will draw me a villain painting in red and the Echeveria alongside the fountain plump with their own Carolina gloom this and the Oakleaf somewhere in the garden its hints of Marjorelle…read more