Tag Archives: orange
Seen Through Fog
There’s a story behind Staten Island Ferry orange. I can’t tell it but can hear its tone revealed in a soothing voice- over through early morning fog. Routine commuting becomes heightened by the transcendent moments before the marathon begins on the … Continue reading
Pore
She peels an orange in the rain. The scent remains on her skin into civil twilight. Her orange raincoat fits perfectly across her shoulders—winter only seven days away. The color of any aroma captures her eye when she stands still … Continue reading
Filed under Civil Twilight or Dawn Poems
Burning Fluid
How many walls will she paint orange before the urge to find replacements dissolves in spirit of turpentine? It is a question she doesn’t need to answer till other colors haunt her, flash inside her eyelids in jealous rages, till … Continue reading
Filed under Overnight Poems
Burnt Green
Most—but not all—of the stain gets removed. A return to wrinkle free breaths, the smell of snow melt over concrete, rosewater spilled on a quilt, the color red buffed without a hint of orange. It’s not just about ashes—to strive … Continue reading
Filed under Night Poems, Overnight Poems
