I was invited to a painting class. I confessed I only know how to paint with words, so they placed four images before me. This is the second I tried to draw:
Those inflamed lights,
autumn leaves burning
folding
folding
fracturing
into the colourless womb of blank
hush between moments,
or are moments spiraling
christmas eve inside pines
pulse eternal green
anchored to nothing
anchored to everything
anchored to the hollow of a wing
fire dissolves frost,
stillness fractures becoming—
differences melt
parallels bend
loop
vanish
all else drifts,
sparks scattered
from the hands
of a sleeping god
wind-songs bleeding stars
leaves forgetting autumn
breath forgetting air
sky forgetting its name
I fold inside,
I dissolve,
pulse universe
never was
never will be
yet burns
burns
burns
folding again,
spinning petals of light
fractals of time cracking open
threads of maybe
or nothing
or everything
I am
the space between sparks
the echo of leaves
the ghost of autumn
and the universe
sways inside me
