Who imagined the canvas unfolding this way? (a poem)

WordPress won’t render this one accurately, so a screenshot appears below the text…

The reluctant artist has packed up
and gone to ground
materials assembled and abandoned


leaving an anomaly
where the frame
used to be

This house was once a museum
of the unfulfilled dreams
out haunting Sunday gardens

The attic was too full of regret
and mouldy old quilts
for the absence of melody to settle comfortably

The palette knife splattered red and yellow
fought valiantly for figures unformed
but lost out
to tangled xmas lights
clinging to a rusted tree stand
familiarity through repetition

I’m not giving it a name
but I know the feeling well

Screenshot to show proper visual formatting of the poem.

(9 August 2019—posted August 10th)



Wishes sometimes have consequences—order now from your favorite local bookstore!

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