The Latecomer

Scribbled white flower,
stellate or trumpet
brushed chair back,
tie and bind the bellflower...

Black leathered nymphet,
blindfolded and blurred
between violet and green,
what hint? what tint
was the last to be seen?

Was blue blue before
there was a word?
Was blue?
Blue was blue
before and after it was noticed.
Was blue
rayleigh scattering,
cried the lamenter?
drips of heartshaped silphium seeds
was scepter. Was-scepter,
commands the latecomer!

To us! To us! The rest
pinked, purpled, and yellowed asemic.
The graffitied wall screamed
hues of lapis lazuli;
sky, sea, and eyes
blurred of teal,
blurred of ultramarine.

The Latecomer

But for bare feet...
they stand surrounded
behind the pollocked chair,
softly
in front of that wall, that wall
layered from all eight blue periods.
layered in this ninth moment,
Gainsborough still battles
for his blue boy,
cut into color; jade and turquoise.
blue nudes of Matisse
cut and beg for release,
beg to spill and scatter
azure, Persian, or Klein.
whip and splash, beg and roll,
beg to bend over
white eyes drip,
seizure the sparkling wit
of cobalt mood.
The latecomer begs to sit!