spending time staring,
where water colors meet
blending on their own,
so secretively sweet
maybe gravity is the ultimate brush
I am just here with pedestrian eyes
they show me about un-name-able colors
genuinely meeting for the very first time
pigments embracing
in the slow stir of the moment
I am quietly eavesdropping
with lightheartedness bathing me
this is in high contrast
to the windshield sighting from inside a car wash
not the same feel or depth or bearing
that is more of a show
rather than an solicitous invitation
I wanted this as propinquity
to be angelic in nature
I need for the turn on of the unexpected
no, the first turn ignition of a new car engine
is not at all the same
the street sweeper, once a week, rolling by, no
but a plane disappearing into the clouds, slightly so
house plants growing rapidly, day by day, too scary
maybe the pace of the unexpected is important
as if words by hand-written touch on my back,
but more slowly
where a glance by my inner eyes
takes up the movement of a waltz
where my composure professes an innocence
as a stance that is slightly transcending
what am I asking for
that another human can’t provide?
a connection beyond acknowledgment?
a continuum of oneness realized?
maybe more simply,
my mind is the brush
and thoughts drip down on their own
as experience is then
the canvass of me . . .
No comments:
Post a Comment