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"Landscape of Love" by Nabibakhsh Mansoori, oil on canvas, 2005
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I see your smooth skin over my cheek bones grow
as a bright green hill onshore, a blue eye at a ridge,
and at the foot soft sand chains of twists and coils.
My nose sinks deeper in still water. I close one eye
till a small tree grows above it. Branches inside
spread crimson red, blood red, color of the river
and your arrows. I enclose it in a glass bubble
and watch it rise, till it sails farther than words.
Now my nose slips under.
Habit holds my breath.
But should it? Is
there a time when green love
is more than life? No
new color should be beyond?
painters and poets
ekphrastic
painters and poets
ekphrastic