Prompt 2.1
They spiral round the painter at work
demanding insight of themselves
beneath the sun beside the seaweed sea.
They stop and pause; are caught in pose
of wonder and wandering. They cannot move
beneath the sun beside the seaweed sea.
They think they are here as I think I am here,
spiralling round
beneath the moon beside the fleeing sea.
Prompt 2.2
I breathe the fleeing sea to find Now
and consider the artist
in rapture of concentration
seemingly without the doubt
that takes me from Now.
Leave a Reply