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#pointillism
I come to you again. Always do. And sure as eggs, You’re always here, Right where I left you. I bring you the mundanities that weave me together; I hope they’re beautiful in their ordinariness. Pointillist. You know that painting, The one of the people in the park? Like that, my mundanities. Like if I step back one day, My moments will be arranged into a perfect pattern of great and universal significance. Having a daughter. Tasting an orange. Holding. Being held. Writing a little heart song when I should be asleep The words of my whims dotting the landscape While the dog smiles and snores at the foot of the bed. Oh, look, I’ll say. I see it now.
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Dec 5, 2024
Dec 5, 2024 at 12:37 AM UTC
A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte
Vulnerable smile, cherubic.    Vessel in the well.   Watery eyes. First tooth.         Nameless relation.     New birth. Memories.             New joys. Old pain.        Overflowing love.                    Half-voice. Kin-sister. Stars, crackling up in the creux.          A relation called Nights. Angling; moon.                 brumeux love, half-hug, Nets wide cast; comets pass.                folded in the wallet. Pouring out. Half-gong.      Calling to the valleys. Brook. Shadowy corners.    Tongues, welling up Delight, discovery.               voices, hushed whispers Bleating with the sheep,      hymns rising. crying with the birds,          Conjunctions of states. whirling with the winds;    Conjurer of fawns. Casting; soil; roots; new growings; smiling, spiralling around the hollow, new life; a cherub, the new dawn.
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Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 2:18 PM UTC
Creux Brumeux | The Hermit
Speckled polka pointillism in the sky, in lime and apple green, caress the jagged, jaded jade summer oak. And smiles down like the angel rays, which cast my soul to heaven. And insignificance. As I steal through my sunshine archways.
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May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 3:32 PM UTC
Speckled polka in heaven