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.
