A poet's painting

[Jennifer Crystal Chien]

(I must confess)
I have an engrossing envy
(so highfrequency green that
it's purple)
for those painters of poetry
who wield sixty-four distinctly shaped brushes
and seven unseen colors.
I have a single brush
shaped like a carnival horse with
its legs stretched motionless
and a goldspiral pole impaled
through saddleback. I do not often paint
the seascape like Monet
the few impressionist touches creating
a deluge of detail.
I do not often paint
the penis hairs of every crotch of each
man I have have ever known.
Sometimes I do not even
paint the staggared spectrum that is you.
Instead I carve your vibrant colors with
a worn out children's crayon
so hard that it cracks
when I press against the wrinkled time-
parched paper that is us.
I do not remember how to paint anymore.

[Terson - Sod Lord]

_Sixty-Four Brushes_

I've never had sixty-four distinct brushes,
or seven unseen colors...
I can't paint pictures like Michaelangelo,
not even with words...

I do have sixty-four distinct friends,
of many different colors...
They give me the inspiration,
to paint emotions...

J. Fritz Barnes
(May 26th, 1992)