Pastel curves grace the canvas.
Each brushstroke brings from blank nothing
beauty of innocence.
But underneath the soft spring colors
lies... lies the intensity and passion, the loving hand
of the artist shapes her from his mind
(Shakes her from his mind?)
No vivid gouache or bold contrasts betray
his heated mind. He forces cool.
He forces detachment.
He forces distant admiration.
But the pastel curves still grace his canvas
(and coals glow softly behind his eyes).
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2 comments:
Thoughts of adultery.
I like this. a lot. have you considered submitting to the dulcimer? b/c it would be much appreciated if you did....
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