Blank Canvas

03.18.98

Wipe the hands, smeared
upon canvas blank as snow
new-born impressions
that disintegrate slowly
to form new children ~
Painéd these hands
crippled with age
twisted with time
yet still slave
to the driving need to slash
emotions upon this canvas
and smile upon shadow children
created with each stroke ~
Daub with crimson
shade with gray
destroy with black
dashed upon cement
angry at the product
that the heart spoke
but the hands could not render ~ 
Each color indicative
of a thought, a word, an anger
so that the whole
becomes more the story of a life
than just a snapshot
of disgruntled moments
and turquoise dreams let die ~
Wipe the hands, smeared
upon canvas blank as snow
to bear more children ~