Based on ‘In the Grass’ by Arthur Hughes.
Sing to me of scarlet skies and I will paint you a valley,
sealing your sigh in my wind.
One, where on topaz mornings,
I might look out onto restless waves
and see in their rise,
a reason why my heart skips stones.
Or on evenings
when she speaks of thrones,
no rose can compare to a queen of floral reign
when the knights they hail
pause to kiss the hands for which they live and die.
might you and I
brand our blush with the hue we call our passion,
and fashion a love that reminds us of our roots.
Based on ‘Woman with a Parasol Facing Left’ by Claude Monet.
In cleansing a pigment-encrusted brush,
who turns their nails to scrape the clay-colored sands
and play with the corals that sprout from a cup of clouded sea?
Where blue bonnets can be,
who dares to wash a wonder that is a window of time
gazing into a glass-eyed girl
or stands to part the ochre shades
that exhale into a robin wind?
Based on Egon Schiele’s ‘The Border of the city, Krumau’. Started 8:56am. Finished 10:02am. In my dorm.
I fashioned a home from stones I found along the way-
those placed by the riverbeds
and collecting rainwater in emptied fountains.
in hollows atop mountains
from the hatbox of my youth.
fell the words of Ruth,
when once I witnessed from a parting in my private paradise,
a flood that tumbled my notions of permanence.
Packing pertinence into what a birch boat can carry,
casting the beam of a house on my back
and the hope of home in my heart.
Started 8:14. Based on Pablo Picasso’s ‘Famille d’Arlequin’. Finished 8:52 my dorm.
Glass in an Armory
An oblong looking glass
as cast into an armory,
grasps for a frame’s edge
reserved for fleur-de-lis firearms.
as welded by breaking men
fire to aim their ambitions into
mirrors of soldered stability.
May no customer note the fragility
of the hands that uphold the quivering shards,
and yards littered with broken blankets.
Started 1:57pm. In class. Based on ‘Venice, Moonlight’ by Christopher Williams. Finished 2:48pm in class.
Strong arms churn in what
a copper basin can hold,
sloshing coral-colored flesh
into a drum of decay.
Lapping almond-scented slips under a bed of clay,
blackened peonies depart from parched lips.
– A. Struthers
Based on Harry Willson Watrous’s ‘Sophistication’. Started 1:42 pm. My dorm. Finished 2:06.
A regal spout
as positioned to reflect the visage
of an upturned,
In a parlor
where a five-lettered furnace glows,
gardenia-grains shift inside of a milk-white bone.
It’s petticoats worn on a petty evening
and the call of an embroidered egret.
Based on Erich Heckel’s ‘Windmill, Dangast’.
A tomato paste barn shivers
in a jug of wind
as a bashful beaker
drips cool currants
down its side.
in a common setting
forgetting young Dale
and the rattle of nails
sharp enough to silence
It’s Joseph in the ranks
looking for Lottie in the dirt,
and citrus peeled
in a broom-closet barricade.