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Finger Paint



surrounded by half-empty plastic bottles
half-full of technicolor images
my mind forgoes the cleanliness of dreams
I crack my knuckles
leave the brushes at my feet

it is a child's dream to emerge their hands
in this iridescent sleep
we let our minds go for the moment
live for the moment
cover our world in dreams

there are pictures in my head no palette can match
ideas you have never seen
when I was six, I could not let go
I can let go now
and let the devices be

I cannot explain the creations that come
when you are gone to the world
and all its machines
to leave the brushes at our feet
cover our world in dreams
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Submitted on May 01, 2011

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