Monday, March 14, 2011

Rothko, Untitled, 1968

Teal black pulses
Above
Below
Ready to consume
The line
Flooding
And soon
 you will only
Know
 this
Inky darkness:
The red will be a memory.

Into your dark
I wanted to see.
I had no ticket
No entrée
To you,
Tangled of words,
Chimes in the gale,
Thoughts as
Spinner webs
Shimmering
Cottonwoods.
Come back,
I want to fix you
In my own sky,
That outstretch~~

I only breathe
& you shift,
unconstellate
starlike,
slip

2 comments:

  1. So much longing and tension. Beautiful words. Modern poetry is new for me, and I read this at least 5 times before beginning to get an idea about the meaning. It's pleasing to read it just without being attached to meaning.

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  2. Argh. The was me (Caroline) -- that "E. goes to the U." was an old blog that I can't seem to delete.

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