I am aged, but still raw, uncooked, unfinished. I steep myself in cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, preparing for winter. But still I fail to render more than a rough uncertain embodiment of what will satiate my continued thirst. For what? With what mural of flavor do I wish to paint the days, the seasons, the years?
I never expected to find the perfect recipe—only to be somewhat clarified. Not cured, but blended into the essences of a Tuscan sunset, infused with the richness of the bouquet of approaching night.
waiting for the moon–
new, it opens the cosmos–
full, it whispers “time”
A haibun for Merril’s dVerse prompt of spices. The grids are from a 100-day project I did in 2015 combining colors and grids. In my final post for the project, I included some quotes from poet Sara C. Harwell. This one seems eerily prescient of what I wrote today.
It looks like a painting by someone I can’t remember. How have I reached the point, is it age?
When the sky resembles a painting more than the sky?
–Sarah C. Harwell, “Cloud Cover”
I must have flowers, always and always—Claude Monet
azalea bluebell buttercup carnation
camellia cornflower cherry blossom dandelion
how will we color
fuchsia forget-me-not geranium goldenrod
hyacinth iris lavender lilac
our world when the flowers are
marigold orchid periwinkle poppy
rose sunflower violet wisteria
Many of our color names are based upon the colors of flowers, so it’s hard not to associate the two. It is estimated that as many as 250,000 flowering plants will go extinct by the end of this century, not only depleting what we see but how we see it.
For earthweal, where the subject under consideration is biodiversity.
I paint flowers so they will not die—Frida Kahlo
“Silence is so accurate”—Mark Rothko
I was pleased to be included with Ken Gierke at rivrvlogr in the responses to Mark Rothko’s untitled painting with my poem “Through the Window”.
I did two paintings and one collage in response to Rothko’s painting. His work looks simple–“a child could do it”–but it is filled with possibilities if you take the time to look.
stillness is white
silence is black
repression is red
Paul’s Poetry Playground coincidentally featured an invented poetry form called “The Rothko” this week, so I’ve attempted two of those as well, loosely based on the quote, above.
white is before
red is during
black is after
You can see Rothko’s painting, and read all the responses to it, here. Thanks to editor Lorette Luzajic, as always, for featuring my work.