Presuppositions and Aftermaths
Her eyes, color changeable,
an Italianate Byzantine emerald,
then a mystic grass green,
The green of the grass called winter grass.
As the color tonality turned Stygian, cypress,
Changed, the disclosure was twigged new leaves,
But the concealment, spurred white horses.
Intertwined among the undulations,
wavy motions
Of sea anemones puddled in jags and walled
By the yellow fungi smears, we saw runes,
ruins.
White candles shaved with razor blades
to become angels,
Melt into white lumps when
the white string is burnt,
The shavings remain precisely pared
white gold cold curls.
Duane Locke
Posted over on Ken Again
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