Living Room

I look up and see, this life- living in me

As witnessed on the walls, of seasons- passed.

These walls, limited- will that limit own me?

The time to rearrange the scenery

Has come. Is here; Is NOW.

A canyon- shifting, magma motivated

To burn and reveal: unspecified claims

I need a new outcropping

Of cognizant boulders

That beg for creation, to lift, and bring to life

What has been waiting in these shoulders

All along. All along, all along….

The aesthetic is energy

Potential. Willingness. Otherness.

Conception, to dream, within a dream

To extract tension, and throw it

Chuck it hard; blatant in all its wretched form

Against walls, against platforms, against canvas

Slather the potent feeling

And baste it until it resigns. And,

In its resignation, entices new life to unfold;

Giving hard lines to develop

The nerve that has patiently waited

To bang the gong of release.

Action to architecture,

Archiving the motivation that burns

Hot- in the belly, in the throat, in the box

This constitution of self, promoting silence within itself

IS enough. Enough. ENOUGH.

Splatter this drought with droves of strokes.

The manifestation of life has been hiding

Long dormant leaves, rustling

Vehemently denying that they will fall before color

Beg in strident waves… to come

Come hard, and with heavy handed purpose

Creating new life, among the mud of Fall.