false ekphrasis*
*(summoning lips
of acrylic to be
and yet piquing the treacly
brow of some gawking sable
clung at the hem of a canopy,
gold and Hookers green,
and nary a canvas sea
to incense to the muslin
taupes and greiges tickling
little Manhattan, twisting
wickedly west of Topeka,
Fredonia, Ore, and Odessa)
aswim in the softly acicular sea
of asemic dapple and dandling
oak leaves,
bricks and plinths
of marl and sediment
honed
to the murmurous umber of
sea foam;
dallying threads
of fretless shades like
oenomel steel strummed soft
as a silken
fan bids sodden wool worked thick
as a sunken meringue
to the brisk and gingery clip
of a sea breeze— thi
One thought on "false ekphrasis*"
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This is what it feels like to be a droplet in a waterfall.
Can’t help but wonder why the “thi” at the end…
…is it like the water disappearing back into the mountain, cutting you off mid word?
An amazing poem to meditate on!