I want you to be the paint that drips on my canvas
our bodies brush to create something beautiful

The greatest piece of art
is found in the movement
of bodies

the fluidity of the wrist
to paint the nakedness
of humanity

the speed of fingers
strumming and plucking
our souls

the sensuality of flesh
moving in rhythm
of life

the meticulous eye
capturing little moments
of society

Art is beauty
and beauty is movement
of bodies.

I remember that day
as if it was a painting-
two giggling little girls
wearing party dresses,
cautiously feeding horses
carrots and dandelions
from open hands.
The sky is vast and blue;
woods and fields
dress in every green there is.

The songs of meadowlarks,
raucous calls of crows
and the humming of honeybees,
crawling all over the clover
blend into intricate harmony
while a herd of a hundred horses
swish tails and shake manes
at buzzing flies.
The little girls laugh every time
a horse’s lips tickle their hands
in search of another dandelion.

Does your darkness forecast shadows,
A high noon noose hangs from the gallows,
Feel the sharks circling shallow,
Swim fast, I'm bleeding.

Peripheral landscapes drape your gilded chatter,
Purple & pink horizons, summon laughter,
Your eyes blink lightning speed patterns,
My clouds follow, miles per hour.

What in this wide world changes,
Can we live high on mountainsides,
Open our door to the strangers,
Surrender to the ocean tides.


~My palette craves color,
     Your canvas seeks attention,
       My callused fingers are covered,
          When your callous words are mentioned.

Fragmented lives entangled
but asunder in our journey
as our paths cosmically connect
in a romance of the arts

And who's to say what's real
to touch or deeply feel
what will truly last
or simply where to start

So I’ll
paint you alla prima
as I feel you playing me
in warm colors of merging ardor
a wet blending of artistry
my brush strokes of your body
painted in my mind
of impressions blushed in passion
in hues I can’t describe

Suspended in the moment
floating on a breeze
I revel in this picture painted music
almost in disbelief, unthinking…
knowing every nuance of our love
found only in our dreams

Like children in parallel play
I’ll finger the keys
and slip the locks
of all your orchestrations
filling the walls
of my concerts halls
with deep
splattered tones
in pinks and blues
the hues
that forever
bind us

And we’ll not look back
nor forward
but hang here in the moment
to display our
Painted Song
in the eyes
of giggly children
both doing
our own thing
together
on a string
curated