Driven

He drove the trowel point first into the open bag of diatomaceous earth pulled it up full and dumped it into the black paint can after a few mixing stirs he did it again Soon he had a rich black cream and minutes later the canvas was completely shiny black with swirls flowing into themselves to enhance the depth of reflection in the finished rendition He called it getting into the mood The final picture a mystery like writing a story about anything that might come to mind even if it didn’t The phone rang. He ignored the first three rings and the answering machine Took care of it. Several visions came to mind as he stared into the darkness. It was two days later when he saw it again. He took a touch of yellow mixed with white and touched each swirl at ten o’clock then with the drying brush worked through them in sequence following the rhythm. Two more experimental sweeps with red and blue were enough to give him a direction to work in .Hours later the palette a mix of blazing color and the patterns merging into each other in several vanishing points of view had him squinting to focus on the center of the top right quarter. Glints of sharp fossil reflect the reddened madness drip following the arc of swung silver furies as clouds boil into and out of the shining darkness. Sweat stings into his left eye as he flings the brush and knife down to the floor. The ache starts at his left knee sharpening to pain as it twists up his back to explode in the usual spot behind his left eye. He reaches for the bottle instinctively then remembering it isn’t there limps into the kitchen for caffeine consolation.