Color paints eyes

in the back of my head.

Mixed crowds of possibility

push for front row seats.

Promiscuous glazes

marry with explosive

abstract consequences.

Pens point at lines and circles

sacred geometry calls Yin

to dance on fragile line.

Yang, sings A minor chord

in a booming colbalt

background.

COLOR SWOONS AT SPEED OF LIGHT

Poet flings words thick as starlings

darting through the

holes in logic,

splashing holy vowels

on paper.

Imagination drops it’s

yellow feathers

on the alphabet.

INK BUILDS BRIDGES.