Canvasing

timid hairs rise on the arm
on the extended hand
of the brush laced with thickened hue
pouring pain and pleasure both
in each and every stroke

that strokes the tightened skin
stretched to never move again

but move it does
in twisted calico contours
that tunnel through a neighbor's brain
in stark chilling structures
seeded in tearful black rain

rain that spatters
and tatters purest of white
the naked flesh of the mirror
flashing pieces of soul...

whole, diced, sewn up and spliced

mindful blind eyes look
into the twin,
the skin enveloping the frame
the same of a different name
whose will will never tame

for wild throats scream
across the spectrum of light
screams that resonate colors
of the passing moonlit night
echoing in fractured streams
in blended realistic dreams

where moths are released from the heart
then explode before us to impart
in a new creation, in something called art