Sometimes I paint, untranslatable words…

Oppholdsvoer (Norwegian) – Weather just after the rain has stopped.

Rivers of water run along the street’s curb

so sparkling and silver

you imagine small fish,

with the sun for scales,

running with it.

How many stick boats

How many sand bars

did you make as a kid–

the sky above you

bruised and catching its breath from the storm,

the grass greener than you’d ever paint it.

There are no words no sounds no colors

that get it right.

Just like love is the only thing

that gets love



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