did you hear thatJust an artist painting
in thoughts carefully culled
across a canvas of vast
glorious mesh of electrons
feeding colors

Here screams a galloping calamity
there frets a feathered fawning
around the edge a contusion
inside the outside of others
eating colors

You see his art at the
very edges of your vision
in the peripherals you see
and if it moves you will
feel it more than hear it
touching colors

outside lies a breeze
to catch on a brush tip
inside a breath lies
waiting for the knife
to cut, drag and pulsate
withering colors

Surely you think you know
what it is all about for
where there is art there
is meaning to be grasped
pulled tightly to the
heart of the colors

hand him a clean brush

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