painter's block

there are three of them:

painting boards,
18x24,
gessoed white.

like three rectangular eyeballs rolling,
scoffing from my dining room table.
and i'm supposed to paint them.

but i don't know how

to ask the colours what they mean;
to wander in fields of abstraction
and find my balance;

to trace the edges of shadows and
hold them up to the light
like a gift.

i'm a photo-realism kind of grown-up

and i've forgotten how to play.
to believe in what i cannot see
until it becomes art:

sock feet waltzing across living room rug;
wrinkled hands splashing bath tub bubbles;
voice warbling songs never before sung.

it's time to finger-paint.


















wandering over to emily's place