Unused Gray
Pen bleeds
midnight blue
green crayon
daydreams in wax
bluetooth keyboard
presses on
a sharp pencil
lingers,
wallowing
in unused gray
~
Behind the poem: This poem came to me just before I fell asleep one night, when my eyes were heavy enough to blur the room but my mind was still wandering. I wasn’t trying to write anything overly profound; I simply let the images stay with me long enough to live beside me. In that half-awake state, ordinary things start revealing their personalities. The pen keeps bleeding; the crayon is full of wonder; the keyboard is the workhorse; and the pencil feels left out.
Ultimately, Unused Gray lives in that half-asleep / half-awake state, where logic loosens its grip just enough for metaphor to walk into the room.
That’s all from me — Chris B.
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