Death in Living Color

dying like autumn leaves.
People would line the streets
to watch our spiral into fire colors
and fall to their knees, mistaking
the rainbow shimmer for God’s voice.
At the moment of our death, we would bleed
crimson onto the recently tarred
street’s black gaze. At the sight
of such voluminous red
the watchers would forget to breathe.


Pattie Palmer Baker

About Pattie Palmer Baker

All my life I have love words, so much so that after many years of classes and experimentation, I evolved a visual artwork style that combined my poetry in calligraphic form with collages of paste paper. Over the years of exhibiting my art I discovered – to my delight and surprise – that most people, despite what they may believe, do like poetry, and in fact many liked the poetry better than the visual art. I now focus on writing.
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