paint | a poem in my pocket

shades of glory

29 Apr 2026 Leave a comment

by lynn__ in list poem Tags: glory, colors, sky, night, afternoon, morning, dawn, paint, evening, wash, dusl

He paints pale pewter twilight
with splash of blood-orange dawn;
a wash of lemon yellow morning,
with buttermilk clouds layered
on cornflower background,
blends to tangerine afternoon;
then, sweet lavender dusk which
transforms eggplant evening
into deep indigo night.

______________

“The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.” Psalm 19:1

i’m impasto imposta’

16 Apr 2026 20 Comments

by lynn__ in zuihitsu Tags: brush, dog, impasto, paint, van gogh, weave, words

Zuihitsu: Japanese form that blurs poetry, essay, and Chinese characters meaning “follow the impulse of the brush.” An artform some consider to be poetic potpourri incorporating nonfiction, musings, confessions and lyrics to create a spontaneous, layered text.

when i hear “zuihitsu”, hairy little dog runs into room
yip-yipping
sneak out for disorderly conduct… in neighborhood
(bitch in heat)

Winner of the 2023 Ruth Lilly poetry prize and other awards, Kimiko Hahn has been writing and teaching this form for years. In her poetry collection The Narrow Road to the Interior, she writes “the sense of disorder” is “integral” to the form of zuihitsu. Did you sneeze? God bless you!

van gogh believed in God but that didn’t solve
insanity
layered pain(t) thickly with brush… or palette knife
(sharp enough to cut an ear)

Merril D. Smith introduces diverse poets to zuihitsu at the virtual pub. She encourages exploration and experimentation with unique (uni)form. This is my experimental attempt to catch the dog, layer ideas, and weave wild words. An imposing form can make one feel like imposter.

textured tapestry hangs in stairwell
neutrals
woven in layers of loopy clouds…outlined mountain
(luxurious [lunatic] fringe)