The Art Job

The sketches he drew

stole my attention

unintended emotive chunks of it

A smooth expertly planned heist

where merchandise vanishes seamless

hefty portions fused to pencil gradient postures

on medium weight 9 by 12

of sinners who let their minds wander

thus

deserved seduction

via graphite shadings

for their transgressions

combined with a growing propensity

to stare too long at beauty’s face

I find resonance there

since my flaws seeped feelings

on dark depths of charcoal masterpiece

with unblinking three-year-old eyes

that plead innocence

but reflect abandonment dusted in ebony

on the flipside of the A4 graph

with abnormal ECG rhythms

And somewhere

between the enormity of my divinity

and the confines of my mortality

existed a heap of specialist visits

from which there never came a diagnosis

so

I continue to distract myself

in watercolors wanting wisdom

last exits for perennial pastel pleasures

fit for unworthy treasure seekers

Inaccessible oases

untamed by the chants of ascetics in their thousands

The unbidden secrets

kings and sultans didst command by decree

to unlock lore and legend

to access sacred rites to find sacred entrance

That irresistible draw to flower mid-bloom

ever in desire to surrender to bee

to tree

the sea

the free

and this man and this woman

of hand-painted decadent oils

dripped embrace over lost beginnings

inseparable across canvas

defying proportion

brings me to weep

undone by touch tones with warmth of ocher hue

with feverish awakenings by him

the artist

the only one who knew