[faded brights 3]

again, not so fast;
prepared, colors fade into honest thoughts of themselves-
pastels propelled, tired clouds collecting into a sky of
something …
something protected, or maybe even forever.
the weather,
drifting dark into light-
i am traveling through daylight
and fading into a forgiven thought of myself-
shades faith and days we love;
i float along lines of reflective pieces
and welcome the will of the next season. ~

[painted]

theres a sadness in the backdrop to the stars, tonight;
a wetness in the paint – something less finished than i’d like.
the stars, at least, are still stars -
oiled light for midnight, and they burn
and almost seem to blur in a hope- -
God if i could have the strength to cope and know
that tomorrow will come, anyhow. ~

[gravity]

ironing out the inevitable,

the heaviness of metals, like led,

(i can still hear)

sleek chilled water
washes over black coal in the night;

it ebbs, and lets
in the light.

improving the aperture,

the dilution of ink as it bled.

(can't be far now; so i try my joints:)

i can still feel.~