The fireplace looks scary in summer
his eyes are bleeding plums
in the space of memory;
but today we try anew
the body's unforgotten dance -
blindfolded step by step
hoping to get away
from the fire.
In the dance,
something simplified astounds me...
Idealized azure
above our heads
when we come out to breathe
free and bare, while in the breeze
the crazed flight of azuré butterflies -
we couldn't care less.
Hey! I missed this one. The last line throws me off each time I read this. It seems so carelessly placed there. I got gloriously lost in all of those z's and soft rhymes and plays on words, that it caught me off guard. But then, that line is right on the money. We get so caught up in our own ideas of beauty, that we can't see the even larger miracles around us.
And I need to send you a little thing my D wrote along the same vein that I think you'll like.
All I can gather is that this is about, “coming out.” Blue on blue can't be seen, so it becomes the perfect disguise that can be ignored because it isn't, “seen.”
It's intriguing when people decorate there fireplaces with things that do not belong inside fireplaces, some psychologist probably has a theory on that but, to be free is wonderfully transforming
In the Spring time in the fields much is hidden that even butterflies would not dare to venture nor anyone else, you would hope, that would interrupt love.
And I need to send you a little thing my D wrote along the same vein that I think you'll like.
So nice to read your poetry again. --charlie
Always,
Deborah
budd
Ron