As your brush
Gently, softly strokes
The white canvas on easel
The paint swirls delicately
Ingeniously you mix the rainbow
Of colors on your magical palette
Blending them all together to create your scene
You could create a whole new world of wonder
Just for me and you
And I often wonder what I would paint
If I were such an artist as you
And held all the magical illusions
Right at my fingertips
But since I am not an artist
I can still soak—drink in
The beauty only you can give birth to
The worlds of imagination
Only you can see
And paint upon canvas
For a poetess to see!

~Marian~

I’ve always wanted the artist lifestyle
even though I paint with words.
I’ve always wanted unfinished paintings
taking up space in an East Village apartment
with acrylic stains on a futon. I want those late
nights awake creating, making sure every idea
is brushed against a canvas’ grain before it’s swept
beneath my worries of utility bills and eviction
notices. I want to see possibility in everything,
and I want to push everything to its limits.
*I want to be so ******* close to the edge
that I could misstep and die at any moment.