muddy visions and colorful people

she deals in onions, painted, rare,
a kaleidoscope of colors
create infusions
where stark white backdrops
had sufficed before.


jokes fly past her,
and she fumbles along,
ignoring them in hope that they'll return the favor,

banter is for the predictable,
the social.


and her darkened skin
is taut with sunshine,
beaded carpets and
sun-bleached hair,
cascade in white-water whirlpools
of feathery comfort,

an aging halo.


her world is slightly foggy,
a half-grown cateract
in need of cleaning,
perhaps,

but she doesn't much mind,
a little dirt, a little grime
never hurt anyone.


but she keeps on
for the skew of things
make her unique
and an individual thought
is hard to come by these days.


didn't you know that plants
are the miracle cure?

just tell your bride
you were trying to make purple...
she'll probably understand.

Reviews

[Moflo]

This was an interesting piece, I liked your word choice a lot and you painted some very nice images along the way. I like the last stanza, its very open to interpretation and leaves the reader wanting to re-read the poem. Good job.