View single post by timmy
 Posted: Tue Jan 23rd, 2007 03:08 am
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Joined: Fri Jun 9th, 2006
Location: Oz, Minnesota USA
Posts: 1085
she is not ordinary—
even as she sleeps,
notice the slow, progressive
dissolution of her shape

only the artist can express
what he is seeing, sitting
at the other side of the table,
restless with his brush

unstable, wanting
to scream with dark
oil paint

she laughed earlier
in the evening, entertaining
him with her expressive hands

her body moved quickly,
fluid as a gazelle

economic, even

her hair, black tightly braided
scalp, like painted ropes,
now loosed, ends bleeding
into the shadows of the bed

there’s a strange mixture tonight,
silence broken by the clicking
of the radiator, a wire clothes line
vibrates like wind chimes

the artist does not see reds,
browns, oranges—
he feels them
as she sleeps