viorel petru trifan


Sometimes - (Talking through my hat)


to Clausius

Every morning
I escape the quilt
as a hatchling
of the shell.
Every morning
I pass from crowd of black
in crowd of blue.

When it rains
rain colors
and crowds of black and blue
fill with puddles,
puddle of colors.

Everyone
is a brush
an unseen painter
is drawing stripes with.

Sometimes it rains only in black and blue.

Submitted: Friday, January 16, 2009

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