REVISING COLOR
Your adventures
are unknowable
to anyone
save you.
Maybe
that’s why
they are
so important.
Your intuition
is inscrutable
knowing what no one
else calls true.
Maybe
that’s how
you got so
exigent.
Anoetic
is the method;
what’s recondite
stays unsaid.
Your inclinations
are primitive
except when
they’re different.
Maybe
because
doesn’t really
illuminate.
Learning language
is the challenge;
every word opens a box
to another paradox.
Our proclivities
are abstruse
save times
exchanging alignment.
Maybe
it’s that maybe
is all there is
of fate.
Revising color
is the endeavor;
any disclosure
is a wonder.
~ Craig Kurtz
Everywhere there’s evidence
In the pattern of ferns,
furred stems of colt’s foot
ivy-leaved toadflax,
snapdragon’d purple
everywhere there’s evidence,
in the rhizomes of yellow flag
beneath the windflower’s white
and winestained petals
in the upturned soil of mole hills,
dead badgers, scoured wind
broken bottles, scorched
stones on the beach, torn trees.
Everywhere there’s
evidence, in the silence
of clouds, sour-appled
tang of wood sorrel
variety of green,
blue of Scot’s pine
yellow spectrum’d
Dog mercury,
olive green of ivy,
‘no no noh’
of a sea bird on the sands.
There’s evidence everywhere.
In the shade of a rock –
‘Dot and Bert’ painted on it
in the scurry of a fieldmouse
flame red of the sun, in
dawn above Ingleborough
evidence everywhere
in the reverence of flowers
placed by the roadside
where a man gave his life
for his son last summer
evidence, everywhere,
in the gold domed Buddhist temple
faces of shoppers
in town on market day
sometimes smiling,
sometimes crumpled
by an inner life
their skin and eyes
reflect.
~ Geraldine Green