
There’s an orange that warms my soul
when sprightly fires are dead.
It blazes back to old school days,
or the day that I was wed.
It piles the smiles on frozen faces
when they think about long gone places.

There’s an orange that warms my soul
when sprightly fires are dead.
It blazes back to old school days,
or the day that I was wed.
It piles the smiles on frozen faces
when they think about long gone places.
some shades of green
& some oranges
zap my brain into a kindergarten
neurochemical cocktail
the bright green LEDs of a post-neon sign
fire the context of a memory into my mind
there must be some long forgotten object–
a childhood artifact?
unremembered,
like the residue of a dream,
or is it gut-stomp synesthesia?
In Cambodia, one can buy these paintings that are monochromatic with the exception of the vibrant saffron of monks’ robes. These artworks are commonly found around Siem Reap and have backgrounds such as the Bayon, Ta Prohm, or Angkor Wat. While this photo was taken in Belur, India at the Chennakeshava temple, it reminds me of an impromptu version of such paintings. All dull earth-tones, except the Hindu adherents moving about in their bright colors.
Apparently, the significance of the color orange is shared by Hindus and Buddhists. Krishna is usually portrayed in orange or yellow, and in Buddhism orange is considered the color of illumination.