Nothing too natural
Dreamy, hazy, of the sea and flowers
Talking of the aching, talking of the waitings
For realism is a snarky mistress
Snooty and commonplace
I rather look at oil and pastels
Smudged, speaking volumes of distress
What's the use of perfect and precise
That elevates my eyes to the painter's
I prefer to ponder, extrapolate, and thereof
Let the poem speak to my mind's eyes
I still am stilled by Aivazovsky's seas
And mistyfied by Gogh's sunflowers
I refuse to attribute or acknowledge
Anything that puts my mind to ease.
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