RED ON RED, poem by CAROLE JACOBS, Wales, UK. GENESI COSMICA 161, painting by DAVIDE BINELLO, Torino, Italy

(copyright of the artist)



Red, orange, maroon, gold meld,

work an illusion without your noticing.

Nothing figurative so no need to analyse,

to search for significance.

All you do is hold to the fields of colour,   

like when you look at a comet,

you only really see it from the edge of vision,

as if catching it unaware. 

Where are words?

How to anchor longing?   

Breathe it in and breathe it out again.


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