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RED DESERT
He sees a red door and he wants to paint it black.
He sees a green field and he has to paint it grey.
What are the colors of the
spaces in between?
What is the texture of the pain
that is unseen?
He points out something that is not quite yet a fact.
He does it openly and yet behind your back.
Can you really tell a caress
from an attack? At random, people
circle, interact.
Cool colors fight with warm,
opening a crack.
Poison plumes of yellow smoke
roil up to scorch the sky; little birdies
have to learn to
fly the other way.
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The Purpose of this Blog...
Originally, it was "To watch all the important films in World Cinema and write something intelligent in response."
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Originally, it was "To watch all the important films in World Cinema and write something intelligent in response."
It was an ambitious goal, and I was making some progress. I have slowed down considerably. This is still meant to be a blog of poetry about film. I may add some trivia or prose. I just added a poem about a cable series. It is an evolving project.
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