“Whoever thought any quality to be a heterogeneous
Aggregate, such as Light is discovered to be. But, to determine
More absolutely, what Light is, after what manner refracted,
And by what modes or actions it produceth in our minds the
Phantasms of colours is not so easie. And I shall not mingle
Conjectures with certainties.”

We choose our colors
But to be seen requires another’s attention
And even then s/he will only see what light allows

We choose our colors
To attract another even profoundly other
Depending on light’s radiant density to stimulate

We choose our colors
Seeking to assimilate
Avoiding any spotlight

We choose our colors
Hoping to highlight how I’m unique
Needing light to unclothe my conceit

Conjoined contrasting complementing contradicting
Most of us deciding to reuse a previously painted
Canvas choosing to clean and cover when we could
Resurrect. Yet all that’s hidden will still exert its
Presence especially when a certain angle of light
Glances the surface or as an especially sensitive
Eye carefully considers our compositional layers

Joy and pain
Pride and shame
Delight and despair

Starting with black
Absorbing
Adding some white
Reflecting
Variations of yellow
Red green and
All that’s in-between
Iridescent as a rainbow
Fixed star
Aurora Borealis
My blind spots
From trying to
Survey the sun

“Colors are the deeds and sufferings of light”

I much prefer Motherwell
But at certain hours I can see
In Antoine’s rococo impressions
Renditions of specific
Experience I do not Find in
Robert’s vivid expressions
The key question however is not
Motherwell or Watteau Rothko or
Rembrandt Picasso or Poussin
But for you and me
What is our subject genre technique
In mixing our palette which colors
How thick what brushes how coarse

Compline 

It is time for bed perhaps for sleep
Surely for dreams
Do you dream in black and white or color
How do you combine
Darkness and Light
Do you neatly divide or subtly synthesize
Do you lean more toward
Motherwell’s calligraphy or
Watteau’s chiaroscuro
Which is your reflexive preference

(note: original, changes made in published version)

“It can be no longer disputed, whether there be
Colours in the dark, nor whether they be the
Qualities of the objects we see, no nor perhaps,
Whether Light be a Body. For since Colours are the
Qualities of Light, having its Rays for their intire
And immediate subject, how can we think those
Rays qualities also, unless one quality may be subject
Of and sustain another; which in effect is to call it Substance.”

But discretion ought not be mistaken
For lack of affection as Darkness
Fully intends to join with the Light
Starting with sophisticated conversation, but
Eventually in quivering star-lit consummation

Darkness is exquisitely discreet
Barely noticed on first arriving
Embarrassed to in any way intrude
His blush sometimes claiming the
Attention he clearly seeks to elude

After spending most of the day with her brother
Artemis remains to claim an independent reign
Her soft light now sharing with the setting sun a
Magical hour well-suited for whispers walks and
Watching a trio of bats do mid-air pirouettes

Vespers

It has been eighty nights since the longest day
Apollo no longer tarries, not even as Aphrodite
Dressed in shimmering silver arises in the west
Royal blue gradually dimming in hue saturation
And tone, the frequency of light waves slowing

“The manner, how colours are produced
By the prism, is evident. For, of the Rays,
Constituting the incident light, since those
Which differ in colour differ in Refrangibility,
They by their unequal refractions must be
Severed and dispersed into an oblong form
In an orderly succession from the least
Refracted Scarlet to the most refracted Violet.”

And yet I have been surprised to find my
Favorite blue – a deep lingering indigo –
Being made by mixing my preferred with
Your red our diverse angles refractions
Reflections inflexions entirely entwined

Preference does not suppress the full
Spectrum, but I tend to wrap myself
In delft designs with just a few
Green contrasts and may even
Grow noxious seeing too much red

From this analysis emerging
Varieties of preference – mine for
Blue – yours for green or yellow or
Red each a lustrous fragment of
An extravagant chromatic continuum

None

Cognition is the human prism
Fracturing a whole into its
Contingent parts allowing us
To see divided what we
Cannot conceive combined

“The most surprising and wonderful
Composition was that of Whiteness…
There is no one sort of Rays which alone
Can exhibit this. Tis ever compounded
And to its composition all the aforesaid
 Primary colours, mixed in due proportion.
I have often in admiration beheld
That all the colours of the prism being
 Made to converge and thereby to be
Again mixed as they were in the light before
It was incident upon the prism…
Entirely and perfectly white”

While Apollo hunts alone
Sun high in the sky
Artemis standing aside
His countenance so glorious the
Clouds melt away leaving him
Robed in royal blue oracular
Brilliance and the purest of white

So we tend to follow muted grays
Rather than let the light lead us
Learning to stop when the spear’s
Shadow falls directly north waiting
Until the highest point is past and
Only then we begin again to pray

Sufficiently uncomfortable
That I expect there was
For some considerable relief
When it was noon and darkness
Came over the whole earth
It’s much cooler in the shade