October 17, 2005 - 11:24 am
GREY
Where�s that Windsor Newton I used to have?
And what�s happened to my will?
Black and white, Victorian simple, my will,
With edges unbroken, marks where to stop,
Sharp lines, shapes unfilled inside.
But touch the palette, there�s no unmixing;
Each lot spilling urgently into the other,
No separation, no self at all.
Yet I let them bleed, allowed this mix, this grey,
Yielding and filled with compromise,
Negotiations, little bargains.
And anyway, what was I expecting?
What did I think would happen?
Whatever it was, it wasn�t this � this
Intensity, profundity, complexity of tone;
I just didn�t count on blushing so much.
~Samantha
recommended:
reading -
viewing -
listening -
care to comment?
3 people have so far.
previous entry - next entry - random entry
read my profile - leave me a note
recent entries:
RELOCATION - October 21, 2006
OVERHEARD IN MAYFAIR - October 19, 2006
DREAM OF A YOUNG BOY I MET BRIEFLY LAST NIGHT - September 23, 2006
OKAY, THEN... - August 21, 2006
MOTHERHOOD - March 26, 2006