The Artist In-Climb
So I
draw, my wrist upon
script...
From the
blood and
lines
Of Time,
In
Days without sentence,
Moments without the gentle
cure
Of the palm-calmed
breeze...
I
Draw -
human portions (bone and whim)--
A Life upon
figures,
A Life
pregnant with the
dance
Of
bodies dripped with heated-sweat...
And
lore.