Friday, 14 March 2008

Soul Noun

To my mother who I do hope, doesn't read this
In your state, you don't need this.
But nor do I.
Predictable apologies arrive
Upon your departure

Blind from looking at the blueprints of my life.
A lost search for a straight line.
Don't have a ruler...
So you can't bend the curves
To trace my world.

You only trace the time.
If I put my eyes upon my watch
My paintings just become a splotch.
I'm in behind the coils of the clock
Wrapped up in timeless tick tock.

"What is this picture designed to do?" doesn't do.
Just my design.
Picture the picture if you want a verb and a noun.
A soul noun this picture slowing down.

It's now designed to deflect your comments.
I've gone deaf from your compliments.

A little detour I thought you'd like...
Magma art book store.
You stand there in the doorway waiting to leave.
The priority---cheese man in Leather Lane with his half prices
Make a mental note to go back to the best books I would have shown you
And try not to miss you when I turn the page.
Just a different age.

I still can't slap you with the money you think is overdue.
But that is not my measure.
Can't paint for the treasure.
Call me Mrs. Leisure with my red, yellow, blue.
If I slapped you with anything,
It would be the pleasure I get from what I do.

You might never understand this how, what, or why.
What or why
What or why
But you try,
So ask the price before the paint has dried.
Jinx the shit out of the ink
Cash up my brain til I can't think
Nothing to share
Except the fading quips in the air

Kitted up in a fire proof before your last visit.
Denser insulation for repeated nerve wounds.
Just getting down to the zip now.
Checking the burns from the ice embraces.

Invisible scars from verbal bruises.
Don't appear on x-ray
Doctor says I'm ok.

"only want the best" for you
But I only want a rest.

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