Life on Paper

Days run away from me

a pack of dogs

shuffling chaos in their weaving strides

I am left behind with

flickering frame

organizing them into

a fantasy of meaning

and their joyous leaps

chasing along scented paths

are lost in the words

that imprison possibilities of

such wild imprecision.

This entry was posted in Abstraction, All part of the process, Being Human, change, Chaos and Order, delusions of progress, mindworks, My Art, my life, paying attention, poetry, thinking in words and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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