we <br />dance... <br /> <br />each <br /> daubs <br />a color.... <br /> <br />yours, orange..... <br />mine, chartreuse... <br /> <br />yours, azure <br />mine, rose madder.... <br /> <br />these colors do not touch.... <br />they do not bleed... <br /> <br />dancing <br />on <br />a canvas <br />each <br />color <br />is <br />an <br />act <br />of <br />playful, questioning <br />speech... <br /> <br />of <br />silence.... <br /> <br />again, speech.... <br /> <br />again... <br />a burnished silence..... <br /> <br /> <br />flamenco <br /> calls <br />from <br /> the room <br />next door......... <br />a proud vibrato..... <br />the colors <br /> on the canvas <br /> answer.... <br />quiver... <br /> pulse.... <br /> feast on the rhythms....<br /><br />delilah contrapunctal.... yes, that's how I intended to spell it.........<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/grenoble/
