I beat myself with brushes ’til
watercolor splashes from
my ears, and my hair
drips with the colors of
some acrylic pigment
I never knew existed.
I stare at canvases
until my heart beats a red
I saw once upon a time
in Nat Geo photographs
of a sunset Nevada Babylon.
My dreams are black and white,
but sometimes dots of color
fall across the page:
sunspots on the movie frame
of my Bladerunner landscape;
reflecting a never-ending,
I’ll reminisce and catch my breath
’til I paint the clouds at Dawn,
and fade into nothingness at Noon.
Or, maybe I’ll fall into the river,
mix into those liquid, color lines,
and that old, used-up turpentine…
Or, maybe I’ll wake up and find
it’s all just a boring tube of white.