drops of pink
small containers of liquid
emotion
starbursts of taste
in the palate of the mind

eyes that behold beauty
seek the crystal orange
to hold the body of the child
the face of the angel

golden cherubs on the sculpted inlaid columns
climbing the steps of the perspectival illusion
of depth and of center
—cathedral of time—
the theater where the action takes the world
where words no longer count
and neither their opposites
thoughts

tubes of paint spread across
the floor next door to grey tennis shoes
walking in a lit space
paintings in a row
crowding the wall
racing to the door
to exit into existence

springing into shape
before you can say now
the touch of the brush on canvas
where the mind has power of emotion
and its imagination is curbed only by desire