A Poem That Happens

If I were a painter, no not that kind But I am kind as I let you crack into a crevice in my warm-blooded heart, I would pick up those brushes and paint your flesh as a buckskin colt, and analogy would float through the chemicals in my mind-- those neurotransmitters, dopamine especially--erecting new memories hard-wiring images of experience-- of a boy who seems to run like like a colt I see it now dessert sands in a blur off in the distance I see the the sands billow in storms at the hooves and the scintillating sun outlines the penumbral essence of your radiant form creating a motion picture of beauty so great, great enough to burst my heart and set fire to the sky And my temperance will go challenged as I swim in your beauty.