Wednesday, July 15, 2020

BORN WITH ~








Born With





My painting will have no surface.

You will enter it by light.

But the sheet of color seems still

the moment refracted sun

twirls cloud mass and the petals,

dapple accidents on crabapples'

wet black trunks. Light enters, richly,

cow-green fields a lake rises to meet.

There's no distance, sundown finches

wash our street in the song of rain.

In the shades there's no tomorrow

but we let it fall on us uncreated.

I have had a canvas but never a brush.



_________________

MICHAEL DALY
BORN WITH
DOS MADRES PRESS
2020