With its dreaming hues
Must be shared somehow --
The eyes don't betray how they are tricked,
The ears can't hear the words
That dissolve in mist,
The hands, as they hold, think only of love,
Too general a wash for the nuances here
At this moment, only.
The white dog is blue
Florescent as a shell
Under indigo cloud,
The pier barely strings together the sky
That has pastelled into ether
Instead of saying what it knows.
Catalina is now a false memory.
The color that is now
Is the basis for what we believe.
We look in each other's blue eyes
For truths not yet dogmatized,
Not yet scrutinized to darkness
As the veil of night, so strange and tender,
Reduces the sky
Like a secret flavor
And the bloom of twilight bulbs,
The lights of all we know,
Overtake what we don't.
