No Object
staring at the water / rocks
abstracted by the flow
of light / watching the flow
how many days / nights
spent in misery / lost
amid the emotions of night
these dreams are more / colors
splattered over landscape / sunlight
diminishes the body / sensation
wallowing in the past / black
on red on blue / nothing says loss
as well as the moon
we walk into the sunset/ fallen
moments / forgetting flowers
the way death forgets everything
what more do we know / what
lines in the flesh / this dream
conjures more than the eyes can take
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3 comments:
What juicy words fall from your fingers
landing on the screen, not randomly.
Though randomness plays its part
as words spill and scatter.
Could anyone say that any of us were conceived with greater control?
The chromosome four-letter words
All the colors of the rainbow from a primary three
we are little more that a portrait and a dream.
Thank you, Tom,
What a kind tribute. This was one of my best nights of writing in ages, and I owe it all to Pollock.
Peace,
Bill
Thanks, Kind Bill. My dribbling was meant as a tribute; I'm glad you've taken it that way!
And, indeed! Your 'Pollock' inspired poems are very good ones.
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