PALETTE OF THE UNIVERSE "The universe is really beige. Get used to it." For Richard 1.The universe is beige, they say, the color of a mule deer running by the chickweed blooming whitely on the bluff, but knowing you wait around the next bend of the trail, I see checker-bloom with five pink petals, ivory-veined, surrounding a bluish-purple lupine stalk, whose keel petals cut the salt-laced breeze. Buttercups—tiny suns strewn across an open field— wink like the points of light dotting the sea that pounds the beach below this headland where I crouch to examine bright red spikes and bracts of Indian paintbrush, thinking of your kiss, and this universe of galaxies blending to tan, drab as my old Mac, reveals its true tints. 2. Lying in light, reading on the living room sofa on Sunday morning, listening to John Sheppard's sacred chants for six voices, I hear cinnabar, olive, raw umber, magenta, violet and chartreuse mingling in counterpoint. Later in our omelette with bell pepper and feta I can surely taste pearl, Paris yellow, moss green, and when you hold me, I feel a surge of indigo, amethyst and tangerine. Suddenly stippled, mottled, streaked, I don't care if the universe is the color of buckwheat because iridescence spills from you and me. |
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