SALTING THE AIR
The low-lying
brown and purple
jagged desert mountains
never cease trying
to pierce the sky
Scrape some water out
for its parched lips
A clump of blue green
tamarack
salts the morning air
A week old cottontail
munches grass
under a pungent
and tarry smelling
greasy creosote bush
A coatamundi appears
out of nowhere
and snatches the rabbit
trots away with
head held high
the bunny dripping
blood
Z. Guadamour
GRAY ON GRAY
Gray on gray
all I can see
the gray world
all the colours bleed
together as they interplay
another shade of gray
inside my pigments
writhe and boil
light is water
darkness oil
a filter to
the bright of day
my in and out
turns gray
in contrast shadows
loom to life
the foreground black
the background white
the static drowns out
all they say
the interference
blurs to gray
and in my street
the houses merge
no definition
just a blur
their pretty hues
spill to the clay
and tint the
gardens gray
my edges weep
into thin air
inside and out I'm
void of care
I'm achromatic
night and day
nebulous in gray.
l-j stockman
