Posts Tagged ‘Emily Dickinson’

This is a response to Emily Dickinson’s poem # 411. Seriously go read Emily so she can haunt you.

They told me that white was the combination of all colors. I mixed all my paints and they turned black. They explained that the pigments are not the colors, color is made of light, the pigments absorb most of the colors and only reflect some of the spectrum. When all the pigments are stacked together the cumulative effect of the absorption overpowers the reflection. Black and white are both expressions of all color.

Color, then, isn’t made of light but it imperfectly reflected light. It needs the physical pigment to break up that wave pretending it’s a particle. Without something to reflect and refract it the light doesn’t make color. Even without the light the aspect that makes a pigment work is still there. The color is still there in the light waiting to be broken up. Like electricity, there is a positive and a negative, and nothing happens unless both are present. If it is color waiting in the light is it not color waiting in the pigment as well?

The Outer Grave is green and deep as a yellow-in-a-ring-of-white daisy. The outer Grave is white until furrowed out by the yellow-in-a-ring-of-light sun. The grave within, the one duplicated by the outer grave is beyond the reach of light. But according to Emily there is still color. All my life I’ve looked for color in the darkness. And Emily tells me it’s there, and that I’ve seen it when my eyes were covered (Bonnet bound) but my brain Ferret just can’t remember it. That’s pretty infuriating.


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