[ If I were a painter I’d paint you in colors ]
If I were a painter I’d paint you in colors Of emerald and olive and amaranth-red, Agleam in the beam …
If I were a painter I’d paint you in colors Of emerald and olive and amaranth-red, Agleam in the beam …
The oak she leaned her back against was twisted, gnarled, and bent —A fitting place for one last song, one …
Her hands become contemporary dancers; swans across a mourning lake of midnight and ivories, their crystalline reflections feather ripples through …
The ebony and ivory keys glinted dully in the reflected light from the skylight overhead, despite their layer of attic …
Out of my still surroundings, out of an unfathomed ground: an inexplicable clowning, a long-forgotten sound. From Heaven’s gate …