Poems: On Reaching Rothko's Black: 1

a recurrent dream
skin itching pea green
grotesque-oil spitting out
over cavern's yellow filth
stalagtite-thick as dangling
feet--image--yourself--cascading
over bridges--the Moon's Heavy
the yellows of its eye bulge--heave
your body like a scream
over rivulets of time's stream
that pours down from high
raining slick-black umbrellas
over island's white--an archepeligo
that shades oily seas--rescind
black silence--begin

About the Poem: This started on reading Lola Ridge's "The Dream" https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poet/lola-ridge and moved very quickly to Sylvia Plath's "The Moon and the Yew Tree"

and back to Rothko's Chapel series

which to mind is the best representation of the visual mirror of abyss--that place we cannot dare pass, but feeds our imaginations on diets of fear and wonder (perhaps the sublime), but while I agree with Nietzsche's point about dancing around the Abyss--whoever got there with dancing shoes? The moon landing was like cold embers from the frost of space-- no one gets back to Mother Earth and the face of god rages fire....