Welcome to My life in the shadows



THE PARTY
 
There is nothing
lost in the artist’s eye,
his sharp watching
piercing the room at every turn,
every wink
catching the table, the ceiling, the walls
of pink,
missing no spot, no drop, no drip,
no crumbs falling,
no slight of eye missed
as it all strikes his canvas
in his own due time.
The woman’s burning smile,
the old lady rocking
two fingers touching through the clouds,
the clocks melting off the table,
a can of soup,
the whip-lash of the moment
caught and buried,
brushed in the still life of flowers
and bundled on the table
beside a bowl of fruit
as the light leaped it’s rim- -
and the players,
each perfectly in their place- -
remember nothing.
 
uTAH jAY
 


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THE PARTY