We paint over the faces of our forebears
when their time has been.
Blank wall canvases in the church or beyond the industrial walls
tempt further figures from minds to fingers to eyes.
Do we need to remember so as not to repeat?
I paint to forget.
Inspired by John
ideas are said to widen minds
winding rivers ever closer to the sea
seething foam now calmed
and, on the shore, unharmed where salt meets sweet,
an unopened bottle of mountain air
Inspired by Francis
my hands are not skilled in music
my hands are not skilled in prayer
but I have my voice
my voice my words
inspired by Rafał
the castle walls are covered in sand
all the bones have disappeared
the grass is always greener
inspired by Charles
on edge
waiting for the call
on razor’s edge
waiting for the second shoe to fall
your closed-eye beauty
sleepy satisfaction
winter sunlight on your cheek
the sun sets softly
a young bird’s feather on the cheek
and the evening breeze rises
I stood on the hill and threw darts at the sun;
You arrived in silence.
Your first arrow curved in its flight, hit its mark full in the centre;
You, and the sun, forever.
my scars tell you I have been hurt
my scars tell me I have now healed
she wiped my kiss from the back of her hand
as though I could not see
I do not understand
her face said
I thought
simonsalento 