I collected crowds.

Pinned with hatpins

to observe close-up

–surfers, bikers, stoners,

academics &

athletes of all kind–

I pegged myself, too,

(such a square, I needed circles)

Sporting

wetsuits

‘til they dampened

leather & chains

–worn to distance myself

from pipes that burned–

to quills clipped to locks

and lowest high corner.

I’d switch, then, to

tweedles

less dum

& turtlenecks

(too)

–good for earnestly peering at things

with telescoped neck

an injury-free connection

on account of those

unpinned helmets I also wore.

Now, I dunno–

I’ve considered Maid Marianne’s,

and thought about headdresses

(forsaking skullies long since)

–maybe I’ll just go

hatless, now.

Absorb vitamin K

for a while.

there is no

“just right”

amount

of the wrong thing–

no “this” in lieu of “that”

no “just today” and “starting tomorrow”

no freeze that won’t thaw and

definitely no Goldilocks breakthrough

(without bear)

to the other side of “shouldn’t”.

no Doors for one thing,

only

Airplane rabbit looping back-to-back

–the Other Side just shades of

WTF

DID >   < DT4

(fill in the acronym)

in the last place?

Not for sugar

(too little, Jones)

Or booze

(too much, Ralph)

or circular mind games

(introducing: me! the Jerk–in starring role)

there is no way out

just through

–thinking out-of-box thoughts

in carton inspected by Schroedinger

(courting mortal odds)

–coloring outside lines

w invisible ink,

(equipping gallery w special glasses)

–playing by rules

that level

(but don’t square)

skipping reprimand

of all origin.

 
Apply:

toxic candy coat,

a confusion of mascara,

Novocain lenses,

and

cigarette pants.

check

look

smokin’ hot

sweet, but deadly,

(numb = carefree)

Trade:

hourglass for

drop top,

jam daisy-centered

petal metal,

objects in rear view are

avoid deploying

airbags to

negotiate New Walls,

closer than

by muscle memory.

they appear

~Scarf over curtain rod curls~

The rainbow path

might seem divided,

separate, as I’ve indited,

that’s not right–

Mis Write confided,

as beams of

Light are all

♦ United ♦

–and all that is–

is surely lighted.

Chasing rainbows

taught me well,

the nature

of ephemeral,

of reaching

for a pot of gold

you can’t quite see–

and never hold,

–the phrase itself

a veiled scold–

I myself prefer

to think–

of bow as magic

bridge to link–

the living state

& Great Beyond,

a spectral curve

of passing bond,

its radiance from

God’s own wand.

For didn’t Dorothy

long to go,

O’er fleeting

rain-brought bow?

To distant lands

in lofty dreams,

found at end of

sun-kissed beams?

She did indeed,

Mis Write decreed.

But more than all

I’ve said before,

of variegated

beamish lore,

the arc can stand

for harmony,

of love beyond identity,

bigger still than

–all its parts–

is banded sum of rainbow arc.

Ride the rainbow red to gold by clicking on these links below!!

Red

Orange

Yellow

Green

Blue

Purple

It’s started to rain

Mis Write declared.

on my parade,

(but I have rainwear)

And Rain’s

Prince’s shade,

that’s itemized next,

in patches

of floridly,

over–writ text.

It’s the hue

–when born to–

pin·points you’re noble,

staining the

frames of a–

movie with Oprah.

Dying the hearts

of soldiers at war,

Tinting the Advent

of Lent, & much more!

It transcends

the world–

to heavenly spheres,

whence

did commence

the People Eat∙er.

Coloring planet

of Jupiter too,

something like red–

mixed in with blue.

Played as a chip,

it’s betting 5 thousand.

In Colorado–

it’s speaking of mountains.

If tallying polls

before an election,

it means the state’s split

in either direction.

To left and to right,

(at least that cross-section)

That’s all I recall,

Mis Write confessed,

since closer to home,

it stands for Hendrix–

song of a lifetime

an era…an age!

The tune

that he crooned

–like the hue–

Purple Haze.

 
More colorful links to this series below!

Red

Orange

Yellow

Green

Blue

The ending–

is pending,

Mis Write declared.

The next cast,

the second to last

that we’ll share.

Happening only,

once in a moon,

(out of itself)

into wild yonder, too.

It’s front for

the Brothers,

rocking the stage,

staining the collars

of minimum wage–

–workers

at clerking–

& unskilled professions,

dying the face

of gossiping sessions.

It’s seen in between–

screwed & tattooed,

Following black,

it signals a bruise.

Filtering flicks,

the pigment of porn,

it courses the blood

of those highly born,

Mis Write continued,

(with something like scorn.)

This hue defines

a whole music genre,

Shading the code

of hospital drama,

coloring ribbons

wanted at meets,

uplifting truth–

past cheat and deceit,

swearing–the while–

itself on a streak.

Do you think

that you know it?

Mis Write demanded,

Since if you don’t

you might be remanded,

by the last–

hint to tint,

you’ll find in this verse.

Those boys dressed

in lead vests–

Blue, is the word!

Catch up with the other hue clues below. 🙂

Red

Orange

Yellow

Green

This tint when lighted,

means “hit the gas”

~connecting~

–perfected–

links made of grass,

where woods & rackets

mallets & irons,

array those

to play foes,

in club card environs.

Back in its Day

& after its Peace,

It meant men from

Mars–prefaced by wee,

its thumb’s

always welcome

in all the world’s garden.

It Means Joe

–and Joe’s dough!

In everyday jargon.

Attached to a horn,

it signals first-timers.

Before a house,

it regulates climates.

Added to breakfast,

it elevates square–

from ham & eggs boring…

to ham & eggs rare!

Mis Write informed me

hands plating air.

It’s hue, too,

of monster

eyeing the fence,

certain the lawn

on other side’s kept–

better, and wetter–

like pastures less blighted,

which care is

the welfare

of resident Giant.

The last hint to tint,

is hefted to toast,

Saint Patrick & crew

(whatever their boast)

It’s hoppy–

and popping,

with well-draughted foam,

Topping Beer

colored Vert–

like the green of this poem!

Red

Orange

Yellow