Wednesday, 12 January 2011

Life Stops For Art

Wielding the moment like a pistol,
Gently, you guide life’s lines into
Clearness. Urging
Sunlight and brick into focus.

Kneeling, or drapping yourself
Impossible like a Rodin model,
Your crooked bones
And your damaged muscles
Suddenly become
Flammable and supple.

You make life take flight
With each prophesy

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