Because we all want to write more poems.
crimson, ink, chocolate
brush in deep
red acrylic paint,
no, better, oil,
a natural substance,
then, slapping the canvas,
marking, defacing, violent.
light strokes and dark,
ink in a pen,
no, better, a well,
the nib dipping and rising
then, pen touching paper,
delicate, quick, deft.
heating sugar, butter, cacao,
on an electric,
no, a gas stove, a flame
growing and dancing,
it licks the pot's copper edges,
sluicing, tempering, sweet
brittle stuff. he
and she. they jostle
one another, laugh now
and then, don't talk
about their work.
breathe in deep,
smile, sigh. here,
they meet.
- Jennifer Dixey's Shared Poems
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Comments
Jennifer Dixey
January 25, 2012
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The beginning of ... something.
Trying to imagine two lives and how you could invent them and then paint them for the reader with a very minimal set of clues and description. The clues kept changing because my conception of the people kept changing. An interesting exercise, and possibly a result that might work as a poem with more refining and a stronger throughline/intention ...