Thursday, June 14, 2007


This is the blue note.
Blue like the smell of burnt cereal.
Blue like the blurred movement
of hummingbirds. This is the blue paper
stamped with your scent,
the underneath forest floor scent.
The running from a predator
scent; the one you know.
I unfold its contents, those vicious
vowels and consonants.
I trace the amoeba shape
of the "o" and the "u" -
the color of new grapes
left to dry. The confession
falls out like azure pills
crushed into powder;
the ones carried on a breeze.
Here at my window, the world
could be as innocent
as my garden. A record
plays in aqua's oceanic sound.
You're the sound
of two bees - the syncopated
standstill. This note,
written with two hands
trembling blue.


Anonymous Poetry said...

14 June 2007

Of Fly Catchers and hidden lakes.

Of sleeping lizards and morning dew.

It is of birdsong and misty dawns

and fleeced clouds floating in a still pool.

The waters ripple awake in the gathering morn.

The first water birds head out for the far shore.

5:31 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

lovely poem, very evocative..well done

7:11 AM  
Blogger aleah said...

Thanks Janete!

6:04 AM  

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