Scattered Museum Thoughts - (To Be Read While Running)
Sing to me silly
of cracked silver eggs
in nesting bowls
under key and glass
in white corridors
Ruffle my hair
when we reach Cezzanne
my brain is alight
my colors wrong
The winter is spinning
The tide rushes in
Hand on my shoulders
the artist begins
Leave me alone
to view the world
a mapping of conquests
a shooting of stars
a whisper of science
will all be ours
Giggle me this
with cogs and whistles
marbles and wheels
metal arm bandits
dropping the egg
gone silver and cracked
taken from nesting bowls
now put back
Unison dream
museum quality
pushing the envelope
right off the table
into the white
of hall ways and byways
stale air and brightness
through glass leaded doors
to the bustle of worlds
not intended for us
past the safety of art
and the rhythm of laughing
of giggling, behalfing
a million odd things
to disturb and be dreams
to break into glorious song
never wrong
to the air turned to fresh with pollution
and depth of degrees
to the "fill me back up to the brim"
and release me back into the wonder world dim
with an inhale, an exhale, of "Ahhhh"~
which somehow I just didn't know until now...
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