The Birth of a Neo-Expressionist Painting Memories clog the channels of the mind The fingers twitch from the need to paint Alerting sensations to the task. Eyes sit on the subject A mantra meditatively clearing ideas on a false start. A tentative dip in color An adroit skin tone begins In softness imagined, moisturized and hydrated. A dissonant vase made and cracked in a virtual world A nest in a corner of what could be love Unseen notes from a singing voice Floating to the suggested ears Give the body a frisson. A timely switch to a less dominant hand blends in A quasi medieval being massages the back, invisible Thrusting the body towards the viewer An unintended provocation. The painting is unfinished.
Gravity Trust gravity to keep your feet on the ground Looking down, you fail to see the attraction of the earth, of life on it, despite the many ants, ladybugs, tiny flowers, and micro-organisms busily mixing things up. Being a distinguished person, you don’t lean to better distinguish those elements of life, for fear of exposing a side of yourself other forms of life dislike. That is gravity. Fighting gravity keeps you out of the grave Until it lowers your eyelids Like the end of the day With the sun going down And the moon rising on the other side.