Layers and Lines


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The pen and the paint
Become extensions of thoughts
And thoughts; actions
Actions; to whispers that grip the pen.

The callouses peel
Where the pen rests
Paint stains
Where the hand smudges

Leaving tracks on the page;
The most human of trails, check points
In the snow
resembling red, flesh sacrifices in the name of creativity.

Dragging forward, up and right
Down and to the left
Pick up, point; cross over
And lead.

These are not my
Words, my people
My creatures,
Or my stories.

They are from the extensions
Of the pen and of the paint
Where the whispers grip the medium
And tickling thoughts become squirming actions.

Where my pencil hits the page
My ink curves to and fro
In the attempt to bring us and then
You and I back together.

The greatest love affair began
So early
And we grew into each other and cut off each other
In the roots of darkness and branches of sunlight

We met
And departed
But we confronted once more
For me to realize where my efforts lie.

Where my pencil hits the page
The only place that is between
Me and you exists, marking the territory
And communicating in a morse of lovers symbols.

I have become the
Mistress and to your cause
I remained wide eyed and spread legged,
Perched for your arrival.

The paint smudges
Linking this world I wait from
To yours.
One of delicately drawn lines.




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