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the thinner has evaporated
paint and words dried up
turntable has stopped playing
canvas no longer dances to the Dead
or sings with Janis
feeling blue
feeling warped
broken like my easel
I look beyond the drips of Pollock
cracked words of Kerouac
closing my eyes looking out the window
visions towards beauty without pain
closed eyes of Buddha watching the creek
gently flowing towards beauty
and landscapes of words
our creek beyond the attic
7 comments:
I love this, Wayne. I like the way you leave your surrounds and move beyond from there.And the shift in mood is tangible. I feel the pain and the letting go.
margo
A wonderfully visual piece, Wayne. Here's to a trip to Cuba!!!
Cheers,
Pamela
Wayne, we all have dry periods. I think of them as a stop for refueling. Do different things, feed my need of sense satisfaction. It works. Your poem speaks volumes and is deeply emotive.
Elizabeth
A nice piece of work Wayne. I like how you approached resolution.
Beautiful poetry.
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