Which Just Makes Me Blue


in the matrix of a prism is magic
of two kinds, the inestimable
and of 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 is the color of death
in unstopped bleeding
or that red’s blush reminds me of
one spectacular sunrise
the touch of you
there’s no calculation I can make
that sums red’s isness because
as it comes by refraction
from the zero of white
it’s entered 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 will have dropped
into the estimable spectrum of words
which may be so precisely split
there’s tight room for imagination
which just makes me blue

Jim Culleny
4/30/19, 7:55 am