A Poem a Day into the Millennium
5 November 1999
 

COSMIC BRUSH


The clouds like waves
     break over the sky island
     the froth rolling down
          the pinon-chaparral

The metaphors rip the ridge
     of my awareness
     cascading images through
          my fuzzy unconscious

What shapeless guide
     bids follow through the fog
     what white sea-bird beckons
          to sail the sunlight
          and sound the shadows
               trolling for truths

What the hand and what they eye
     and what gall to think that I
          would understand or yet
          spontaneously dance on faith
               like a seed-fluff
                    upon the wind

While the ominous quadra-ped
     is but a reminder of
          the grand sweep of that
               cosmic brush streaking
          the pigments of life and joy
               over the rocky void.
 

- Paul Malecot
 

image of stork .to Paul's page.....to archives..image of stork


 

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