I can imagine river living, living by the river,
the Willamette where it winds through Creswell,
life between the buttes when there was so much
more to uncertainty than there is now.
Calling calling Colorado Gail, calling on my
dead ones, death, calling on the red ones,
milk red spots or stains, the blueberry of
buildings, the gray of grass, it dominates.
I am aligned, aligned with green.
Light green of lakes, lake green.
Sonor of sounds, radar, sonar,
beeping in my blood.
Don’t be Stupid.
Don’t be Stupid, Seeker.
Let me entreat Color.
Let me not regret
admiring your forms
Sam naked in the shower
valuable worthwhile
treasure treasure treasure
Karen fat and Karen thin
woman next to me a fleshy mountain dressed in purple
next woman slim in orange, brown skin
asking questions
tentative—
There is a row of pines. There are balls of flowers hanging in the air, purple petunias, yellow, gold and red.
Covered with azalea, peach, yellow, orange. And pink, red, purple. It is the time of year.
Been a long time. The project is red, as red as the buds. The questionnaire is purple. Disability and rescue. Caught between the acts. You could say caught but there is never any stasis. Rest in flux. The boredom of hostages. Involve your body, musculature, mind, and investigate. Investigate the virtues.
The pale yellow amaryllis photo.
The thin maroon line around the outside of each petal. The curved forms. Not done. Crisp. Pale. Curved.
The body.
Isolated.
I see a large format, almost transparent page, light tint of color (apricot, violet, pink, green) with a long private free write on it. Who cares if it’s inappropriate?
It’s transparent, colorless, isn’t it.
It’s styleless. It’s a mess. It’s a loss.