Creative Lucidity

Empty canvas stands
     alone on
the easel within
     my mind.
Walls crumble under
     the weight of
creative insanity.
     I am left to
wade through the
     puddles of
mixed paint,
     and pluck
the pieces
     of myself from
the rubble of
     still raw thought.
Construction
     of form begins
with the words
     I find beneath
the unfinished
     work and
collapsed clay.
     I fill in slowly
the transparent
     brush strokes
with colors of
     madness.
Leaving behind
     through the
delirium�
     pictures
of pellucidity.        

Reviews

[Sean Eddingfield]

...

[Drum Bum in the Sun]

hi anna! this poem is great! definitely the best of your poems that tries to encapsulate the plight of writing and battling words. i put up a few new poems the other day, check em when you get a chance. some mediocre, some good, some kinda shmeh... oh yeah, i think i mentioned the alex grey art exhibit to ya a while back. moon ceremonies and drum circles and whatnot. they're moving to upstate NY at the end of the year so there are only a few chances left to check out their space in NYC. there's a full moon tomorrow night if you're free. i def recommend checkin out the exhibit when you can, even if it's during the day next time you're in nyc. www.alexgrey.com hope you are well and enjoying the fall! take care!