My Nose Was Blinded By the Language of Color Poetry

Daniel Wuenschel

What is color
                    permeates the body

it's all about light
                    beaming into your soul

you are what you eat
                    on Good Friday

talking in color
                    not covered by Rosetta StoneĀ®

reflecting blue
                    sad emptiness spilling out

making green
                    envy memory money

white reflections
                    in wedding albums under the sun

iridescent feathers
                    Provincetown fathers

shimmering shell
                    I desperately hide behind

structural colors
                    everyone can eat

brilliant beetles
                    in the hexapod parking lot

a coat for all habitats
                    worn in Joseph's dreams

butterfly blue
                    spread on the earth crust toast

the language of color
                    tastes like forty-three

Born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania in 1968, Daniel Wuenschel now lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Since 1987, he has worked as a bookseller and as a museum professional. Wuenschel also dealt in the book trade at the Harvard Museum of Natural History and the Harvard Art Museums before managing the Grolier Poetry Book Shop. He is currently Library Assistant at the Cambridge Public Library, where he catalogues new materials and works the circulation desk.