ATTIC

the odourless thinner is heavy
tubes of paint mixed with dried words
warped 45s playing music convolutions
on a broken turntable
a folk blues revival
dancing on a canvas
with Garcia and the Dead
flying high on the easel with Janis

the attic a multicolored cherub of colors
cracked words splattered on the wall
visions of Kerouac drips of Pollock
separating myself from space and time
my eyes closed in divine pain
seeing beyond gloom towards beauty
I hear the music within
painting poems with landscapes

this is variation of earlier poem "The Attic"