We Address

We Address


                by Norma Cole 



…a lead pencil held between thumb and forefinger 
of each hand forms a bridge upon which 
two struggling figures, "blood all around"… 



I was born in a city between colored wrappers 



I was born in a city the color of steam, between two pillars, between pillars and curtains, it was up to me to pull the splinters out of the child's feet 



I want to wake up and see you sea green and leaf green, the problem of ripeness. On Monday I wrote it out, grayed out. In that case spirit was terminology 



In that case meant all we could do. Very slowly, brighter, difficult and darker. Very bright and slowly. Quietly lions or tigers on a black ground, here the sea is ice, wine is ice 



I am in your state now. They compared white with red. So they hung the numbers and colors from upthrusting branches. The problem was light 



Our friend arrived unexpectedly dressed in black and taller than we remembered. In the same sky ribbons and scales of bright balance 



The problem and its history. Today a rose-colored sky. Greens vary from yellow to brown. Brighter than ink, the supposition tells the omission of an entire color 



Which didn't have a musical equivalent. In those days the earth was blue, something to play. A person yearned to be stone 



Clearly a lion or sphinx-like shape. The repetition of gesture is reiterated in the movement of ambient light on the windows, curtains, and on the facing wall, the problem 



and its green ribbons. The hands almost always meet. Turquoise adrenaline illusions adjacent to memory, to mind. We address 



memory, the senses, or pages on a double sheet, classical frontal framing. I want you to wake up now