An unloved shotgun house in New Orleans...shining Indigo...
++++++++++++
Purple Kale
Purple glass
Grape.
Indigo
Indigo book---
Indigo kitchen stools---
Indigo's mystery.
I drank Purple Russian Kale
in my plastic purple glass
and it transmogrified into
a misty, holy, Russian Mass
in a huge psychedelic cathedral with
melting stained glass windows.
---imagiNATION
Modigliani was a poet;
his medium was paint on canvas.
He loved long-necked women
and Absinthe---green liquor
that took him to other worlds---
Dearest, I love you the way
purple loves elusive indigo,
the way paint loves canvas and
the way words and ink love paper...
the way my fingers love
the feel of dirt as I plant
indigo eggplants and tomatoes.
I dream of touching your soft skin
the way morning sunlight caresses
the tips of the trees...
I think of your dark, long hair
tangled in a morning breeze,
your face upturned as words
come to you---pure & unfiltered.
I wake, eager to read them.
5/17/17 by Marion Lawless
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