he paints sharp lines between the squares,
a border, not to cross
unlike what you would do with watercolor
commonly //i think
&forehead against forehead,
lovers in their own way
i lean carefully against my neighbor color’s chest
“you don’t lean tightly into someone usually?”
and i feel guilty//
guilty number millionthousendeightyone
and run my hands across a fine black line,
a little mosk, palm, rooftops
sweat and sand and seabreeze in their paint
a few months later Macke fell
at the front in France//Champagne
“i probably haven’t learned to love someone” i say
and stay, abutted to my favorite colors
that bring out in me
what i can’t see//or feel
myself, a life-long search&challenge
i pour paint onto a palette
somewhere in the face of africa
close to the sea, a map //
an ink-soaked quill instead a flag
to wave with
Who are you and whom do you love?
What else are you, that no one has seen before?
Describe a morning you woke without fear.
How will you know when you get there?
Those are the questions, Marina has us answer for poetics at dVerse today… i answered three of them… smiles…doors open at 3pm EST
&that is the exhibit i’m referring to that i ‘ve visited last weekend