Cipher you onto paper, to canvas
Riddle, riddle why are you so damn quick?
The meaning wrenched from something like glass
Brittle fine instinct escaping my lip
I mumble you into existence yet
You a muse, amused, listen for value
Incise the sides of a shining concept
There is nothing like burning out breakthrough
Work meat through a sieve my meaning new
Gray making red making sense of the brush
Pull now where pushing was needing each hue
The echoes now soften into low hush
A pause, lean back, walk away, return, stand
Its there, that thing it somehow from my hand.
November 21, 2000
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