There is something
about grey skies
and cold days
that makes
sadness
warm

There is no wrong
in falling foolishly
for the things
that make you feel alive
as there is no greater feeling
than a beating heart
that still
simply
beats

Satisfaction
never laid itself
on a silver platter

As long as I am human
in front of that platter
as long as I will
always ask for
more
more-ness

The Garden of Eden
could not match
her beauty
so it blended with it
and merged
her holiness
with
the fruit
of sin to
inject black
and white
in the world

hold me when the river runs
don't let go.
watch it wind,
see me sink.

hold me when the river runs
to wherever it can't wait to be
rushing, roaring, rigid flowing
sudden stops -- please,
give me warnings

hold me when it all floats up,
when the bones pierce through,
when the gold is birthed,
when my palms fail to release,
when they fail to keep.

hold me when the river runs
don't.
let go.
I'll learn to follow echoes.

i am a museum

my sadness is a closed
exhibit

and you, my love,
are the night shift

no one gets to see
but at night
you see enough
just to guard me.

Sat by the windows tall
Grey clouded light hazes through to illuminate the wonders
The irreplaceable structures, swatches, and swiping, scraping of a tireless hand
Surrounded by the obvious subject, yet unlike those who amble, I choose to see  
Paint pots and brushes of many men perch upon easels so used, a coins thickness of murky product builds its height, topped with splashes of clear reds, browns, and whites                        
Yet no art is to be fashioned from what has been once made, made again    
And so, my back in the dark of the pristine portraits and angels flying high, I see      
And what I see becomes my obsession
Frantic strokes upon a canvas rush to convey a fleeting moment of beauty
Colours so alive they cannot be restrained by careful handiwork, feelings so joyous they demand to be felt, untainted
And so I work as to appease them  
And though I live like the sky
Light flirting in and out, captivating my soul, only to hide recluse  behind the clouds and southern hemisphere  
I hope my labour keeps the skies of some souls clear
And that will be enough