Friday, August 22, 2008

A Word Game

You erupted out of a piece of glass shard
Soaring above white cotton-candy clouds
The foreground emerges like a specter.
It colors itself and after a while
The contents of a locked heart
float above Earth, like bubbles
blown with some lip-flirtation
Rising up and above into empty space.
Isn't the heart asymmetric,
scrambling my mind into scrambled eggs,
as I anticipate your next move?
As you rotate your hips
and shift your canvas
in halftones, in fulltones,
in tones that seem complicated,
I can't help, but pull inwards
and ask myself how mindlessly,
I accelerated my heart into oblivion.
I dared and tried,
to enjoy your collection,
of beautiful, paintings which were
on the one hand lumpy, and on the other
seemed to give birth to a vast array of
leaky lines.
They magnified an infinite horizon of
infinite, multiple dots,
all connected in a delicate grid,
all balanced and full of passion.
These overlapping shapes, spilling
with sin-laden cognition,
draw attractive symbols,
cluttered with trashy, invertible
intuitive surfaces on a piece of
Perhaps in hindsight, all of love and life
is a collage of irreversible
mixture of colors.

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