sofa on a Sunday afternoon


all the sunshine in oil paintings wash pale as rapture in lessons learned together and a sky is fogged and sitting still, it’s been done by now and the air is turning blue once more but you’re sitting on a freeway looking for colored lights to change with each direction oncoming traffic makes the morning seldom sought when it rises it’s strangely new like syrup on your pancakes tasty morsels stick together stacks of sweetened glue while you’re still standing in line for coffee and hear the birds sing (hey, they’re up there too) from a wire’s live performance when handed down to open fragrant feathers fly between a softer science as the signals start to move and then in orbit overtakes you as a comet passes by all the while with lights getting brighter until a flash brings back the sky and that last red apple and a flower’s potted where a vine was once what grew before into darkness stills another place for composition in desire as it conjures nothing other than kneeling before Him in an oiled pew so you sit down on your sofa on a Sunday afternoon in strokes of many colors looking back to which direction it will take once a gilded frame is found and used to send a curl of whitest plume up in the air it rises while you’ve been watching out your window never even knowing the candidate’s debate has been decided long before Sunday left the crowd from any view.

@04/13/2013 by KPW


About KatherinePopeWolcott

currently compiling thoughts/writings -- notebooks full, pulled apart and put back together and then something new, and here it all comes. two books being finished in the interim. Sometimes really frustrating. I remain with little interest in attempting to learn the "how to" parts of blogging because I'm technically inept, so multiple limitations are always present; just try not to think about... but other creations coming soon -- I think I am able to scan/pdf; what I am currently working on (paintings and photos and painted photos) once finished; or get someone else to do it for me.
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