The sea here is woollen
It is grey and grey and grey
Grey sky
Grey sea
Grey Dog
Gris
Gris with a 'G' that sounds like a cough
The same 'G' that makes my companion Van Gogh seem like a stranger
Gris
A grey dog with black feet
Zwaart
The shells here are made with wool
They pull it from the sky and sand
To form the lines of their bodies
They are orange
Blue, Yellow, Striped
They end with grey wool
Pushed into the sand and at my feet
Dripping in the Dutch rain that rolls off my hood
like Dutch colors roll off my tongue
March 4, 2007
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3 comments:
All of my senses and my curiosity are on high-alert when you write things like this. I wonder if I can dream about such things?? Thanks for sharing Anna
This is dang cool, my friend.
Awesome writing, friend. As a fellow poet, I loved every line. I look forward to more thoughts and adventures as you let God do his thing in this time!
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