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 Stone®
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.
