Michelangelo is a busboyA Poem by Kristina MoulaisonOf wasted talent.Weaving magical cathedrals full of color and light as he walks between tables shuffling his feet with wide brushstrokes of empty pursuit. Giant swaths of anguished naked spirits dance as he dips his brush into the downward spiral ladder of his sweating brow. He sweeps the floor, silently pocketing fevered glimpses of clay dust, seeds of intention chiseled, dripping pools of muted spectrum into the cracks.
Picking his coat off the hook to go and rest his head until daybreak calls him back to grind at this stone, he walks the sidewalk in darkness seeping brilliance into a storm drain © 2014 Kristina MoulaisonAuthor's Note
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3 Reviews Added on December 28, 2012 Last Updated on February 5, 2014 AuthorKristina MoulaisonBellingham, WAAboutI write. Read me. We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, la.. more..Writing
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