he looks to that place
hidden in the grey folds and
white matter where the words
and images are birthed
all he sees are blue beans:
jelly beans, frijoles beans, kidney
beans--all as blue as robin's eggs,
strewn on a pitch black field
he waters them to see
if they will grow, for surely
this field is of magic or
at least dreams
but, it seems, nothing
sprouts; the fallow field remains
the same: a bed for countless
beads of blue
he lays his stylus down,
a sword he wielded for naught,
closes his eyes for a final view,
and all he sees is blue
Jul 4, 2017
Jul 4, 2017 at 2:50 PM UTC
he looks to that place
hidden in the grey folds and
white matter where the words
and images are birthed
all he sees are blue beans:
jelly beans, frijoles beans, kidney
beans--all as blue as robin's eggs,
strewn on a pitch black field
he waters them to see
if they will grow, for surely
this field is of magic or
at least dreams
but, it seems, nothing
sprouts; the fallow field remains
the same: a bed for countless
beads of blue
he lays his stylus down,
a sword he wielded for naught,
closes his eyes for a final view,
and all he sees is blue
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