Poem-A-Day: Day 318

On Blues

Sapphire spires jutting at angles
not normal to natural way,
cutting cobalt wounds
in an otherwise gray-skinned animal,
bleeding blue blood,
slowly pooling in small pockets,
slowly turning azure angles acute
from obtuse concepts hanging low,
dreaming cyan concepts from the wounds,
the pooling blood on gray skin,
making cerulean concepts create color
from the small pockets of cloying angles,
spears jutting from navy notions,
jutting at all angles and dropping from the sky.
In one din go, the indigo sky shows through gray,
leaving only no din aims from image notions.