[ 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 …
I fell into the riverbed in desperate search of sleep.
The winter melt had long since gone (the waters were not deep)
Yet Autumn’s early frost had rimed the trickling river’s tears.
Engulfed in such as this all other thinking disappears.
When the touch of warm flesh has returned to your lips, And they yield as they once did on mine, …
The oak she leaned her back against was twisted, gnarled, and bent —A fitting place for one last song, one …
From out the Frozen North he comes,Areek of fetid sugarplums;He bears a sharpened blood-cord caneAnd drags behind an emerald chain. …