© Jane Bled 2016-2017
All Rights Reserved.

Statuesque mannequin-trees

Buttress the weight of drowsy dawn.

Perspicacious pinks link pinkies

With boudoir-blues

To adorn soot-screened cumuli.

Otherwise dismal palettes —

Choker-tight —

Rouge rounded rectangles

O’er hoary horizons.

Luxurious lemon crema lightens

Flaming fanfare for anvil-atmosphere;

Fanfaronade feeds on kindled air.

A new day arises,

Laundered with the laudanum

Of lavender lethargy.

Selective memory

Simplifies sundry pleasures.

Ohisama gives a gentle chuckle

At the clucking tongues

Of mother hens and wayward geese

Taking detours through backyards,

Walloping wings clipped to crosshairs.

They don’t do much to populate


(We, the people)

But spare plenty-‘o’-pellets

For sharpshooters

Toting full clips and crucifixes —

Salvation comes at a price too steep

For pennies to pay the sum

Out of pocket.

Sun God urges the land to look-see,

Not to idolize:

“You will never etch this moment

On a firmament as pristine again,

So pick up your pen

And ink the future:

A perfect likeness

Of how the past began.”

I believe Him;

Thus, I write.



All-seeing | © Sourcebooks | Colored by Jane Bled