Apropos pickle
Butte barely there in tumbleweed distance
Colloquial circus on edge of town
Drab hard rust
Emergent sea
Fish scale sliver
Glass stippled bass dress
Hercules sleeping like a cat
I don’t know slick
Just relax
Kairos
Let there be dark
Maroon full of water
Noun ironing board
Oh peel up
Preen winged words
Quick thick sailboats pass across a canvas
Red banal rose
Startled pimientos brush along a landscape
Thesis slope mint
U-pick raspberry squeeze
Very faraway pink
White lime yellow summer clouds
X marks tableau vivant spot
Yield sudden silk
Zeus striped sock lint
The Coming of the Toads 
Read this loud. Sensationa of words rolling of the tongue. Though I don’t grasp head or tail of it, I like the pattern of soft and sharp sounds. Like the image reflections in the mirrors too.
Thx, Ashen. The idea is a kind of satire on the naming of paints, the names commercial paint sellers come up with, often having nothing to do with the actual color, and those little cards you get, the sample color, almost never quite what’s in the paint can. We’re a long ways from three primary colors. Also messing around with alphabet primer (note pun). Was going to take 26 pics, one for each paint name. The project reached a point of diminishing returns, as do all projects involving poetry?
Spellers, ah well. I’m excused, had a nasty cold and feel like a rag doll.
Love all manner of spellers and spoonerisms and malaprops. Better to have misspeeled than never to have written at all. Maybe the cold also came from reading Hahn?
As a purveyor of fine paint colours in my day job, your words are like a romantic cello piece.
As I alabaster through my day
Spreading cheer with chalk USA
Making rooms seem oh so mellow
I’m a cheeky somewhat shy old fellow
Not yellow
Then frames perspect their captured time
There’s gold silver black and lime
Each stemming the flow of ideas nigh
They find their way to a side table lie
Some die
Frames and paints – a world within a world – fractalicious B
Ah, the color wheel rolls on. Very nice, B. The piece is clear and cheerful, in spite of the fading paints toward the end. “Captured time,” a good metaphor for a poem.
O .
dear.
Nice
Hey, Sunshine! Thx for visiting and comment.