Monday Poem

Which Just Makes Me Blue

in the matrix of a prism is magic
of two kinds, the inestimable
and that which can be counted

—the inestimable cannot be counted
by definition

if I say red is passionate hot sexy
or if I say red’s the color of death
in unstoppable bleeding
or that its fresh blush reminds me
of one spectacular sunrise
or the touch of you
there’s no calculation I can make
that will sum red’s isness because
as it comes by refraction
from the nothing of white
it may enter a zone
of the most inexplicable
part of mind which is always
putting its private spin on things


if I say red’s frequency is 4.3 times
ten to the fourteenth hertz
I’ve dropped into the estimable
spectrum of words which
…….. when so precisely split
leave’s no room for imagination
which just makes me blue

Jim Culleny