Impressionist
closed lids consciousness adrift
a paint brush dipped in colored drips
to swirl in the well of ink that slowly swells
to paint the canvas of my soul
these lingerings of auras and colorful pulses
the black and grey shadows of horror
the metachrysilis of life in subterfuge
hidden and suppressed
overflowing in waves and subsiding to crest
these flickering images
of dawn and dusk
faces fluttering in places long gone
smiles and tears fading in wavering place
van Gogh spyche bindings
these dreams not quite so clear
emerging growth bounds forth
bursting from eyes awoke
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