after The Nightingale’s Song at Midnight and the Morning Rain by Joan Miro (Spain), 1940 CE
for Lorette C. Luzajic
QUEEN OF EKPHRASIS
The other day—while the Indian parrots and spotted sand-brown mynas in a Ficus religiosa
(peepal tree) were amusing my olfactory/tactile senses + esp (extrasensory perception) with their mesmerising notes during the course of early ante meridiem (04:30); while the papaya-yellow/green Ellipsoid was lending a shoulder to the Ether for its teary-catharsis—I found myself interlocked in an electronic-exchange (in the form of micro/nano bites) with a remotely located prolific connoisseur [aesthete + bibliophile + lexophile]: what is ‘prose poem’ to you? She posed her intrigue in letters as opposed to pictures.
QUEEN OF OXYMORON
“’Tis as beautiful a compliment is to the noun named ‘oxymoron’ as a bouquet of lilium is
a compliment-without-words you present to your girl to compliment on her radiance on your virgin night out together; ‘tis a vers libre and enjambement liberated—raised to the power of 2, at least, if not to the power of n; ‘tis verse/s/form/s emancipated—raised to the power of 2, at least, if not to the power of n,” I let the bouquet of alphabet supplemented by homographs, homonyms, palindromes, portmanteaux, juxtapositions, jeux d’esprit, and what have you—in conjunction with a literary device or two of allegory, metaphor, allusion, simile, and what have you—showcase their nature, authority, prowess, and aesthetics in a poetical tongue.
