Monday, May 21, 2012

Writing Indigo

My hands are blue with the stolen dye
(we are all pirates, all of us)
and the indigo prints on the wall
open into branches of night.
What lines are written under such a wood?
What cannot be said,
what must be revealed?
Oh the love of it, the blue
of hushed early morning.
The blueness of deep veins
singing to the great blue sorrow
of the unwrapped world.

3 comments:

  1. you def have the blues going on...smiles..i rather like the thought that we are all pirates you know...smiles...What cannot be said,
    what must be revealed? nice you have several different approaches to the color..i like

    ReplyDelete
  2. Love the revelation of the last three lines!

    ReplyDelete

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