#arts #secrecy #beauty

Mr painter
A reckon poem 📋

What kind of work is it
Was it falling asleep
Was it speaking death
What kind of work is it
Was it speaking life

Tell mr Hagens to calve a piece of it
In brushed papers ?
Or in lines ?

Oh yes the window
It needs something more dignifying to erase the pallette like splashing wax.
What kind of exceptional display of grace does it carries

Was it grace that outshines the roses at edmond valleys

That brushed us into mountains.
Was it that kind of exceptional grace

While the windows holds up the seemingly chest to chest rejections of falling works

Which hope would lift a falling chandelier back to lightning

To see the exceptional grace
A candle must be lifted

Which brushed the grasping delight of stripped strength


A lock must be found to open the doors of works
Who will light a passage of love like the chandelier does

To eject an injection of love for Mr Hagens

A keeper eyes must be of a sleeping mole

A frame pallette to fall sleep with do
Let it consume the sleepers head with fogged dreams
Into a landscape of perspective imagery.

The window stood in cruise

Like a metropolitan king serving wine with canine pianos
Was it now In crises?

The sudden welcoming of cracks and splashing wax paper.

Dominating the years of closed secrets.

Poet bi
Jose bless
© oneb