Tuesday, 1 May 2012
Fireworks The optimistic kind Glitter bang, lights Flashing lights And a promise made. I tread in the woods No smell of books but real things Ideas fully formed And by who? The cordial of the germ swirls around the world like a stirred cup of tea They`re listening to me them dancers. All the world sits like a fist in my throat; I gulp and it doesn`t shift So I shift to words, to characters. A series of images engraves My mind`s eye And I go to flick all the cards for an audience but flick turns to click, click, click `I must be an artist` I think. I`m always thinking, reflecting I couldn`t purge my ideas onto the page Without inspecting, censoring them first. `Earth Dance` I repeat My statement of intent hangs like a damp cloth It looks sad. With mouth to mouth, the stories came... the juice of illustration comes And I can swallow 30 minutes every day. A pill. A drug. Time is circles and as they loop I fill their staccato rings with things Important things, I think that become more important the more I look.