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More Colours (xxii)

please tell the sommelier that
i’d like another bottle of that delicious pinot
noir. i don’t consider myself much of an
oenophile...i mean, don’t get me wrong, i love wine...but i have neither
the taste buds

nor the memory to be such a connoisseur. but given what a pleasure being
out with you has been this evening,
i’ll take anything i can get to jiggle these clumsy synapses just so i maximize my
remembrance of as many specifics of this fine evening as this dim noggin can hold.

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More Colours (xxi)

today, on this subject, i’d like to focus on the
healing power of this genre of american music, not the part where we languish
excessively in the sorrowful, sometimes grief-striken or inconsolable aspects woven into the

blues, generally speaking, but more on the complexity, the divine and the sublime aspects
leading one out of those more down-trodden stereotypes of the genre itself toward catharsis.

under the spell of the blues, one, to put it simply, when the
experience is as it can be, when one wants an escape from the morbidity of depression, one

soars through the maudlin, up and up, near heaven or near enough nirvana that one feels,
         perhaps, quite literally as if one might burst. not of sorrow, but of joy. to do so, one
         must really experience the depths, and then settle in, receptive, ready, for some
         soul-sculpting, life-altering blues.

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More Colours (xx)

don’t you just love these paint chips? they are so
eccentric. i’d never
even heard of a deep-sea vent before, and rather than
problematizing things by looking up what exactly one is, the hyphenated part of this so
-called word makes it pretty
simple for me to imagine the color itself, some sort of 19th century
elementary school chalkboard hue that, i want to imagine has some sort of
a

very slight glow. dark and
eerie for sure, but something maybe comfort to someone who has
not until arriving at said vent decided for certain
that the impending suicide he feels necessary can now be planned with conviction.

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More Colours (xix)

personally,
i’d rather
not talk about all of the
stress, all of the

anxiety that is swirling around within me right
now. it’s enough to make me
dizzy (and i’m already a ditz) and i really

need the
energy and focus to get a lot of things done. and all of it
enthusiastically. so what am i
doing? mostly just
lying here with my
eyes closed on the verge of
sleeping. because i’ve less anxiety when i’m asleep.

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More Colours (xviii)

i will not tell you
now how

your eyes
often make my heart flutter. that, as if
under some sort of a spell—and they’re impossible to
resist when they are in front of me—my

entire body, beginning with the area of my heart until i am engulfed, invigorated
yet weakened to a point where my body is, in
essence, nothing but sheer potential, vibrant,
so ready for flight that for the rest of the day and into my dreams, i am soaring.

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More Colours (xvii)

underwear-
loving
twenty- and thirty-somethings these days seem to really
revel in their undies fetish within public
arenas (w/easy ogling access: social media, leather fests, underwear parties)—they’re
very
into these eye-popping skimpy skivvies,
often discovered with no backside—
let’s call those brilliantine jockstraps—wow—sometimes i, myself, get so
enthusiastic about this craze that this fifty-something wants
to form an alliance with those exhibiting hotties...but then think better of it.