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Kaolin rock and granite of China hill

Crumble, coalesce and birth again

Through nature's wetted brush,

and light of living room luster:

Your porcelain salt shaker girl—

Sullen without her pepper man—

Hardened when kiln flame

engulfed with blue-green hands.

From palette of a Kahlo,

Your touch was watercolor:

Regret's mountained landscapes

garland Eastern poppy dreams.

Blue-and-white dish.

Cherry blooms on black lacquer box.

Procession of dusty veils

lift with a crane's calling:

Vase, shrouded in iron-blown olive.

Her perched gaze

Relieves the glaze in yours

Weightless, wings take you

To the sky, Gram

And so you paint sky's sunset shades:

rose

violet

and cobalt night.

eppy: In terms of pace--certainly the flow of the piece is a bit stilted, as each stanza really has its own full-stop at the end, like the rhythm of coming to the end of a haiku. But I think that's OK. I suppose you just need to decide whether it's a "read-on-the-page" piece or a "read-out-loud" piece and adjust accordingly. I think some more jarring stops would actually make the piece a little more interesting to me--although that might not be a good thing, heh. j_moody: the sounds of this piece are excellent-- luscious, yet crispy, watery and firm, like celery or chewing on ice cubes. i'm getting a little syncretistic here, but all i take away from the poem is its *feel*, some flitting imagery, no meaning-- but i like it. Add comment