salt cellar

 

an origami sky

hems fragilities

amongst the points

unspoken

choose a color

blue

prompted paper birds

mouth hunger

into tender meaning

splayed

choose a number

two

the flash of wings

against confinement

beat

choose a color

gold

remembered witness

fingers flash

total the character

of fading proof

choose a number

one

future triangulated

reduced to an eighth

of possibilities

choose

you

 

13 thoughts on “salt cellar”

  1. Someone asked me the other day if I was on a word diet, and the answer is no …

    When I have something other than poetry to offer, those words will be here.

    For now, I have poetry.

    With which I am very pleased.

    Kris

  2. I remember those little folded games. They always promised so much more than has been delivered.

    And so much less.

  3. Choose.
    You.

    Yes, that is a very good choice.
    I like the poetry. It prompts my head with random visions, much like dreams. Little bits of whole to build into something new.

  4. I played that game incessantly until the folds disintegrated, flapping and changing repeatedly.

    Holding the future.

    Then creating another one.

  7. I think I lost my soul somewhere in the folds of choices never made.

    Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve’s haunt me daily, and the colors are as vivid as they ever were…

    1. I know they sell specially treated pages these days that offer a similar experience, but when I was a kid, I used to draw these intricate colorful crayoned patterns across an entire sheet of paper and then, with as much pressure as I could muster, I would darken over the entire page with black.

      Until nothing could be seen but a rectangle of absolute.

      And then I would scratch small lines from the black, peeling back the nothing to reveal the colors beneath.

      So very vivid, those colors once hidden and then revealed appeared to me.

      And that …

      is where your comment took me.

      Thank you.

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