I pounce on glimpses, capturing images that twitch in my gut.
I move by instinct, marking the paper.
Awakening from my catnap
I remember and respond with light, dark and color,
calling out stories from my alley.
Winter freezes out summer, composting its spoils under icy crust.
New paths emerge in mucky tracks of charcoal, wax, ink, and paint.
Rips, drips, and ooze brush and hiss.
I stalk with false starts.
I watch out, I reach in, and I reemerge.
Painting, I see in the dark,
continuing my travels,
my nine lives.
Jamaica Plain, MA