Resisting Red

Well, we do not know what to say today

about the way you’ve pressed your passionate intensities
into our palatably softened densities: it’s gray and rainy
and a little like the nineteenth century right now,

outside, in this precluding afternoon, this cooler
intermittently precipitating gentle swoon of silver, green,
faint yellow hues: Manhattan beckons you to muse in quiet –
not infuse a riot of inexorable red into the psychic diet:

but you persist.

We resist.









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