an eye, an ear
you, my toasty canvas
both medium, and muse
guiding my bristleless brush
over thick froths of white
each day your gift: another chance to create to swirl what once was straight, to spread what should be thin
on good days i am salvador, brow cocked to consider how onions and bagels might over mesas drape
on bad days i slice my thumb, but know it could be worse (right, vincent?)
untopple that easel! for nine digits, and your other half, remain.
each day your gift: another chance to create to swirl what once was straight, to spread what should be thin
on good days i am salvador, brow cocked to consider how onions and bagels might over mesas drape
on bad days i slice my thumb, but know it could be worse (right, vincent?)
untopple that easel! for nine digits, and your other half, remain.
