dear ink jet, black fast. greasy lightning. won't smear. won't rub off. defense: a visual screen: ask an octopus (bioaquadooloop). footprints faster than a speed- ing bully, tracking dirt all over the page. make every word count. one. two. iamb. octoroon. half-breed. mutt. mulatto. why are there so few hybrids on the road? because they can't reproduce. trochee choking okay mocha. ebony, by contrast, says so much.
one year, i carried the blues around
like a baby. sure, my coffee mugs cupped
amethysts :: water gushed, rose-tinted
and -scented, from the faucets at my touch ::
the air orange with butterflies that never
left me. meanwhile, indigo held fast
to my toes :: lapis lapped my fingertips ::
and a hue the shade of mermaid scales
bolted through my hair like lightning.
my eyelids drooped, fell, heavy with sky.
that year i carried the blues around
left me mean :: while indigo held fast,
the daily news tattooed azure to my back.
true, festivals of lilies buoyed me. but what
good could white do? the blues grow like
shadows in late sun :: stretch creep run.