Delft Blue(s)


Delft Blue Tile
Delft Blue Tile

A Sunday morning breeze
Across mountains, across seas
Meet me at noon
In the Market Square
On ocean waves soundtrack
We are roaming the dark alleys
Champagne, Scotch, and a good trip
Lips that smash against a crowned ship
With our suitcases full of books
And splashes of paint dripping on their pages
There you are, kissing my maybes.
In the center of the square
An eight-pointed star recites and sings directions
As you moan on my stage
With the sounds you tell
On the cello of Clint Mansell.
The girl with the fringe
Opens her mouth and sews fantasies for you
Seduced by the future of the past
We exchange spatial looks
And the journals that we keep
At our latching paper and ink
And the odds of the madness
Entangled in a Vermeer painting
That comes out and speaks in tiles.
Show me your wounds
I’ll heal them with pearls
And words and warmth
With the flowers from above
And the stars from below
We are beneath and across the ring of sky
An immortal creation
A reverie that croons to our hearts
With green shapes and patterns
A quilt of fallen masks we have woven
You teach me of tones of colors
I did not know existed
Of cello tremolos that soothe me whole
A musical vision of glam and theater
That buries the dark and the graveyard.
I forget and I forget and forget
This is a journey I must take
A sharp memory of a future craze
I am a turquoise maze
Pierce me with kind needles
I’m a painting of a muse
That cries and hears your cry
Let the music be our guide
We’ll meet halfway on the other side
A spiraling route to awe
I’m traveling towards a Delft Blue
A central star points everywhere
For that is where I’m going with you.


9 thoughts on “Delft Blue(s)

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