Thank you to Michael Clay, Johnny R. Olson, and the mad editors at the swirliest site around for publishing my poem today. Mad Swirl
http://madswirl.com/author/limbler/
The Waiting Man Paints His Mind
No one stops to listen
while the holy painter
describes his technique,
and why he chose his colors thus.
Even with his pitiful disassociation,
dreams of this portrait will haunt him.
None suspect his stuffed background of experiences.
This unimportant man,
this waiting man who asks the day
if anyone feels love.
A torture battles his thousand spirits,
as the sanity thief lurks,
unwilling to offer a reasoned viewpoint.
Inside this consequence,
his spooky abilities still let him manage his brush-
fresh paint thrown upon the canvas.
He shifts his emphasis
to the form of the subject,
until he completes his binding task.
And no one stops to listen, nor answer,
as this waiting man asks
if anyone feels love.
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