Words scratched like rust
Corroding a silver silence
Degrading everything
Until all that is left is the image
Words creak like old fences
Clop like patent pumps down a humming hallway
Crescent of yellow-pencil moon
X-rays and plaid make a velveteen forest
Striking some perspective with blind strokes
White and green and blue
Words fold up into little origami boxes
As the locust swarm or honey's viscous spurt
Of paint warms and jello-ifies the brain
Not paint like vinegarmaltedrottingmarshmallow wall paint
But the paint of silver tubes and white containers
Nail polish, plastic, oil, mind glue paint.
Paint me something beautiful.
Write me something beautiful.
Talking to my hands
With my heart
Not giving my head any credit (I love you too, Mr. Cranium ... Miss?)
'Tis how I'd choose to live.
This wonderful way.
Creative and alive.