The illustrious artist, imagination flowing to shift the paper into an image.
The imagination knows no barriers,
An open structure safe from weather systems
The sky like charcoal and graphite.
In the sand lay coloured eggs of cerulean blue and a yellow ochre
The bench of iron appears to be a burnt sienna.
The trough on the desk with pencils
Creatures and archaic cities.
Everything he draws becomes a real scenario
In this landscape.
The owners built a fantasy setting
From the outside it looks like a
Apartment complex in perpetual
Once you walk through
It’s yard you see a
The size of a commercial plane
Mobile like above his desk.
The television sky flickers…
There is something about the minds
Eye that is a swirling storm.
Static and realizations,
Scattered on the paper
Flecks of gold leaf brushed into the cheek
We roam so far in the masterpiece
It pulls the crowds that want to
Take moments with a camera
In a museum,
Or to have the postcard
Of the artists dream
Above your desk.
I am fortunate to be a guest here
But also a creator
Like my neighbour to the effervescence
Of colours and water pooling off
The brush hairs
To paint the rivers
For the storms.
Thick and thin and curves and swirls
The large canvas and the drawings
as a study.
He tells me he has to work hard,
Because of 8000 reasons.
He must maintain
To live in this domain,
Or his life would be
Body on the gravel spray
A torn shroud of the street.
The illusions and the Fervour
Keep the artist safe.
This uncaged madness mixed
With a language
That is of many
Every fantasy has its secrets
The cracked concrete
Brought me here
I was in search of this escape.
As it found me.