A Fiery Lick
Something about paint
I absolutely adore!~feeling more
fluid-thinking when wearing an
old smock, branded with dashes and
blobs, to my mind each
one a stripe of rank with starry
splashes my medals –
like coral reefs
like florescent algae
a new canvas primed, runny
with liquid motion; I thrust
my igniting brush...somewhat
sad when all is dried and
framed; yet the good ones
remain tacky to the touch,
delightfully smeary to
the eye~like the wetted
hands of children, bringing their
innate patterns into active focus --
I think, when it comes to poetry
the ocean will never be entirely
emptied: what mysterious lyrics
lurk in such black, unrhymed depths –
by the magma-vents, like moths
writers are drawn to eerie glows,
shadowy forms~dauntless, ready to
risk even death for fiery licks
and rapturous cuddles....
Copyright © Joe Dimino | Year Posted 2022
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