teeming sea of blue
green, lavender, yellow, and
unnamed atmospheres
Category: Marlene Vine
masses: fire
stepping through the rip in the grid
into the conflagration
of words
masses: after armageddon
gravestones of nightmares
disintegrate into dust
in dawn’s gentle light
masses: rain
painting by marlene vine, poem by roy herndon smith in the early falling dusk rain spatters on the screen and glass between dark distortions of branches holding deep mauve to blue-grey emptiness and sorrow blotching into joy in the reverberant clarity of the present blurring into the lost was and the unknown will be
masses: memorial
the evenly spaced
black and white pillars
still stand over against
masses: after the fire
toxic clouds settle
into evacuated
burnt-out neighborhoods
masses: cold moss
the furry minutia
of blushing life
on a rock in the snow
masses: water
swirls and cascades
rains of light pelting blue depths
and green and purple clouds
masses: flight
it appears to be
a grid of structures on
a tan to deep brown
masses: pandemic
the mauve cloud of wild
silence storming through the grid
all we thought we knew
dust 