Shout into dark, deepen the word.
Apology is the word for you. Moments gone to time and dust. Tongue still dry it whispers dark. Howling low it knows the tune.
Night repeating as burned out day. Floating above dream’s breath. A loop then ride before the flames.
Rushing winds on stagnant water. Life’s elements decay in dark. Reaching out, your friends now gone forever. The shutter dulls a ceaseless pain. There was a time I may have whispered into you.
Ode to Time
There is a spark I feel and it is a precious thing. As the building crumbles the fire flares inside. I am a painter, an art form dead generations before. I don’t care the flame shall be nurtured, it calls my name.
Dying, a poem of sorts
It’s a strange kind of prophecy, crying in the parking lot. Not sure you were a genius knowing it all ends in pain. You held my wreck-less station. I’m still standing in the shadows, waiting in the rain.
What I Know
What I know
I don’t have anymore answers. I ran out of questions long before. A simple hesitation turns to a silent moment. Another breath of air exhaled slow.
We noticed your shuffle. My hero years shorter. I am your failed echo. My own dragging an imitation.
Drawing deep the air is cold water. The wind numbing it shutters my fear. A little peace while the sun is shining.
I few small paintings from a busy week. As much as I enjoy working on large paintings it is fun to mix it up!