Wednesday, December 14, 2011


the curtain swings open
I look out
it's blurred out there
most likely ghosts
nothing I want to see
I see rage
the window slams shut

the luminous lift off occurs
it's full of red space
I see nothing
then I see red
the window slowly opens
then quickly closes
I see the blurred reflection

stopping and looking
a non being image appears
listless falling color bomb
standing in front of a canvas
personifying his color red
the face of Mark Rothko


flaubert said...

Wayne, so you saw, Mark Rothko? Interesting indeed. Nice one.


Anonymous said...

I am fascinated with the specific people everyone is seeing in the image. Brings an extra dimension to the poem.


Anonymous said...

I have heard it said, although I am not an expert or entirely sure of what I heard, that the art of Marcus Rothkowitz was partly based in his ability to translate Nietzsche into expressionism. Have you, Wayne, been doing the same thing with your poetry? You are a master of the mystical and, I like the way you expressed your vision.

vivinfrance said...

All the poems to this prompt are incredibly varied Yours is no exception - Mark Rothko indeed? I thought more of a view from a Hopper café!

Brian Miller said...

intriguing...i can see a bit of a face in there...a color bomb nice....