From this Chamber, a Single Stroke of Paint

Feeling like painting
with a .45 kind of brush
a brain colored heart
upon my empty walls
adding little bits
here and there
for texture.
I’ll paint one long brush stroke
the soft curves, hard edges
of a broken forever.
A man stood to the side
in this snap shot
thirteen seconds into the future
he lays entirely on the floor
painting a new mural upon the hard wood floor boards.
For now, behold, he appears to stand
even though there be no more man standing there
a moment ago though there was a man
painting a portrait as fast as one man can.
in that instant he is gone
as quickly as the picture is complete
the artist’s spirit takes it’s leave
there is nothing left but a lonely portrait
he has not left a name scrawled upon the wall
no statement to explain the piece
nor title to hint at what it might have meant
to him.
It is as senseless an act of art as any.
“Without meaning,
one might as well consider life death”
the critiques might say
standing over their own chalk line drawings
hoping to divine some meaning from such a work
as this…

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