An object in every sense of the word A word shocked the senses A painting never speaks And when she did you were confused Because it wasn’t what you expected Or even wanted But her voice became part of your dream And as the form changed What you saw was what you heard Atmospheres sketched And then fading to your assumptions
A creation is not to be understood Only experienced Even from the inside You cannot know what you have found The moment of intimacy is a rip-tide A loss of control that you asked for There is nothing you can do Except survive Not knowing why you tried Except that art was how you wanted to live But art is not you It’s only what you think about And when you think about it That’s what you did with her You paid to be near And you left alone
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