Poem-A-Day #113 : Poem for Tuesday

Poem for Tuesday

Today Constantinople fell

Mars himself caught fire on the field of battle - his cloak went rust then black
frozen on the spot the reaching vines of darkness covered the globe

Hang a rope over one reaching arm - the scales of justice knotted on the ends - the day will be for sacrifice

How much does all the blood of Byzantium weigh

Tiwaz Rune - An invocation of the Norse god of war and law Týr
Tuesday derives from "Tīw's Day", the day of Týr

Poem-A-Day #74 : Accountability

Accountability

I want to hold lines on paper accountable for the things they seem to be saying

Become an accountant

I have a small pencil sharpened and ready

Let's pretend that these lines can speak that they have something to say what is it that is spoken

That word account comes from old French though exploring those roots reveals nothing the word was conter and then aconter and it means to count and it recedes quickly because what is the use

I want to say that I hold myself to account that I can explain away myself in spreadsheets and lines that become flies snapping at the heels

I pick up the blue pencil my illustrator friend left behind after his visit and I draw across the walls until the space is the color of a Smurf's flesh then I take pics for my Instagram and none of it shows up

There is the sound of a fire alarm somewhere in the building

I continue watching Parts Unknown and realize that I shall burn

That the blue pencil doctrine exists bad parts of law shall be thrown away and the good kept

Let's pretend for a second that I am not lazy that I manage motivation that I 'get things done' am one of those people who others say good things about

Let's pretend that I'm not naked while I write this and eating pizza and soda and cookies

There should be a law probably is

I think about the laws against those who cannot pay their bills about the laws against homosexuality and the forced castrations and then the forces sterilizations of the poor not white women

And I don't know what part of me to tick

Which box do I fill in when it comes time to either literally or proverbially take my life into accounts and face the great white lights of The End

I do not even believe in a god to be the keeper of that great bound book of things I did not do well so -

I think about counting myself and trying to take stock of my goods

And then I remember to hold language accountable as well call it out on its shit tell it to go fuck itself

Here language is a small token a parsing of my body it is dough and pale and full of nonsense that rarely escapes itself let alone heals anyone and yet...      and yet...

Pantone

Pantone was founded in the 1950s in New Jersey. It is now best known for those fan-shaped booklets of color charts. They have a proprietary system of color coding, PMS, that is used by fashion designers and governments alike.

Pantone claims that the color numbers and pigment values for all 1114 colors in their PMS are intellectual property. In other words, they believe they own the makeup of the colors.

Honeysuckle...apparently.

Every year they hold a meeting to pick the color of the year. The color that most matches the zeitgeist of the moment. In 2011 they picked Honeysuckle and said this about the choice:

In times of stress, we need something to lift our spirits. Honeysuckle is a captivating, stimulating color that gets the adrenaline going – perfect to ward off the blues.

2013 is the year of Emerald. Here is what they say:

Emerald brings a sense of clarity, renewal and rejuvenation, which is so important in today's complex world.

And I mean...sure. We need rejuvenation. And I do love me a jewel tone. But...really? And the descriptions are really similar. Honeysuckle is stimulating and will get adrenaline going and Emerald will aid rejuvenation. I guess I'm not seeing a difference.

Tell me that pink makes us think of birth, of spring, that it reminds of of life. Tell me that green is vibrant, is life in full blush, is summer. Give me something a bit more...evocative of color.

The Cotswolds. Every year is Emerald.

Color is emotion. Is sense memory. That deep green reminds me of the western coast of Wales. Of the long expansive fields dotted with crags of steel-colored rock. There are probably sheep out there. Maybe mythical creatures. It reminds me of my childhood. Of a long bike ride through the Cotswolds that ended at a large tower in the middle of nowhere. The sun was dappled and I was wearing a neon green hat that said 'London' across the front of it. I probably had on acid-washed jeans. Because I was a baller when I was 12.

The pink makes me think of pigs. That makes me think of Charlotte's Web. Which makes me sad. But in a really great nostalgic kind of way. I'm thinking of the annual Centre County Grange Encampment and Fair in Pennsylvania. There are these long tents full of pens of animals, each a prize-winner or an attempted winner. Rows of rabbits, chickens, pigs, cows, ponies. Crates of vegetables and pies. The grange in PA is one of the few left where people stay over in tents on the property. The waiting lists are so long that the tents are willed to the next generation to keep hold of them. My father's mother shared a tent with her sister. People would build out the tents to have working showers, kitchens, porches. They pimped that shit out. And it was terrible-fabulous.

These are the things color brings up. Not rejuvenation. Not stimulation. Those are dull PR words for 'buy our shit'. Pantone is stupid for thinking it can copyright memory or nature. It would be telling me that a smell is not mine. That the way magnolias makes me cry is somehow not mine. That the color of the sky in early fall is not mine. That the fogged glass after a hot shower is not mine.

I will allow 2013 to be the year of Emerald if for no other reason then it means I can imagine an endless bike ride in the middle of nowhere every day. I will not allow that Pantone had anything to do with getting me there.

Iniquity

Iniquity 7/2

A tree is felled then planed
Sanded until smooth
It's vanilla skin dry and cool

Stained a sharp color
It is a table
there are scales set down on it

One side tilts low
Some metaphor that is heavy
The other side holds a key

And it all means