Und so sind alle Wände gepolstert

You were thick oil on canvas circa 1989
brand new red handled bristle fan brush #4
lush hanging pine trees
sloping against the peak of Japanese mountain summit in snow

black forest green gripping to the grain
jet black jugular edged to a fine point for the colorful plastic drop sheet kill
busy little ticking bomb scare blue
star strangled stream churning into rushing waterfalls current

1AM realization’s that no artist is ever happy with their piece of the pie
words and images turn in my mind
a coin trick flipping across knuckles
as I fixate I fold my mind around you and the past

clumsy clay you should have put in the kiln for burning

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