Vintage Words


Growing what has already been named

means learning strange pronunciations.

To know variety and color endlessly

makes the mind roil with possible

metaphors that lie down with that

which has already been named.


Blue is an idea that moves to be felt,

red is a warning that life can get loud.

Purple hazes as it should, tan tries

to be neutral and fails.


Viewing varieties of violet-like petals

aimed at the stars like lighthouses

or drooping in the afternoon sun is

wondrous. White is for angel wings

if you believe in angels.


Gray is for shadowy memories that

fail to return in total. Pink is pin

head fairy dancers like windsome girls

frocked and follicking in a field

of their own manufacture.


These words and moods collect huge

baskets full of a newly opened flowers

that have already been named.






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