mishap
maybe
but definately

not and act of God

no warning given
and no discernable
clues

just a hurling big canvas
painted with pastels
nonsensical

at best

Leather oil
and smell

figures into it


and crack  of the bat
sound

as well as
the other senses

and food
food is for action

not for thought
as we grasp at straws

and other metaphors
we appropriate mix

and call
American

It's not that words
have failed

it's just
there are none

all dreams

crushed
like aluminum cans

Just some red
slathered

and smeared
on canvas

and
nothing about this

is easy
but then again

life

should
always imitate

art

Sublime
white Orchid


like Ivory

then maybe
some purple splotches

shooting
from the *****

It's those long days
spent

with you
that play out

like a 24 hour
solo

on the saxophone
and summon all the cliches

"where have you been
all my life"

is the first one
coming to mind

uptown
downtown

double back
backtrack

then midtown

green light
yellow

red
followed by notes

flowing

from a clarinet
or a saxophone

with steam
coming from a sewer grate

winding

yes

but the pavement
is still satiny and smooth