night of a thousand colours

Another of his isolation themed works, from his initial days in exile in Venice, this piece invokes many private images between himself and "the Panther". In the end, defiant.

night of a thousand colours

crisp, cold and calculating.
the proper pronouncements
on tongues cut from leather
birthed in a sea of tranquility
and madness.
the blossom on a daffodil
crushed, a poet's hushed
prayers. and stairs that
ascend a tower, friend
to the night of a thousand colours.
duller than plain song.
duller than a white
plastic knife, serrated
ridges worn off on the
edge of the picnic table
where we spread a feast...
halfway down the road
to the farthest ocean.
another catalog case
of illusions and fantasies
to sit on a shelf forever,
like a lost clay wizard, forever
wondering of his exile from
his brother. another time.
another place. another face
and another crime. red
as lips in shy surrender.
indigo as the night.
hallucinations.
benedictions.
and sacred vows.
turning sanctuary
into a prison and
survival into
slow
lingering
wasted
death.
but my breath
will not be wasted.
and colours tasted
never forgotten
as long as I have words
and the will to use them.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.