October 17, 2005 - 11:24 am

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

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