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Watch As I Paint The Sky Gray
by Jared OrlandoRight before my very eyes
Seeping through my very fingers
Fingers like shaky tapered tree limbs
Like sun dried flatworms reclining
Is a world of constant rough edges
Like a rubbed out charcoal painting
Falling like sandy waterfalls
Over each swollen knuckle
Collecting onto my dusk-colored boots
Creating a small burial ground pile
Of discarded pieces of memory
Each worthless piece of past
Touching one another, combining
Forming distorted kaleidoscopic histories
And I disjoint my knee to fling into the air
These false remembrances coalescing
Reaching down, I gather the remnants
Breathing it in like a delicious mist
Stinging my nostrils with its intake
And now all that was once thought hollow
Is filled in the lines with color
Like light hitting the edges of a mirror
Is a new life born out of used ashes
06/25/2010 Posted on 06/25/2010
Copyright © 2024 Jared Orlando
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Therese Elaine on 06/26/10 at 02:31 AM Ashes to ashes...this is the fine grinding of emotional pigmentation into something thicker, deeper and capable of blocking out the sun and bringing on the storms...an excellent piece, Jared. |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 06/26/10 at 07:22 PM Lots of impressive, well-captured imagery. That ending in particular is just great. |
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