Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

work in progress - "In the belly of a white bird"

I am painting a picture of a white bird
with wings spread, the sunset his halo,
his beak pointing east.
Below his left wing,
he has a man's torso.
There is an old woman's face
embedded in his belly, creased, defined.
Her cheeks are sunken, hollow.
Her eyes are deep-set in her head.
They have shadows around them.
The woman is me.
The woman is me.
She is embedded into the chest of a bird,
the man's torso framing her
prominent cheekbones.
The bird can scream.
She cannot.

from within the bird
a scream is paled by height
sky needs no volume control

turn down the gravity
once past the ozone
it's all beyond pain

First of all, I like the image

a white bird with an old woman inside
the bird can scream...cries out
fly away!

I am an unfinished painting.
My skin is canvas, hydrated by
tones and colors I create with
imagined pigments. On days when
I brush myself with doubt, I am greyed out,
muddied. I brush myself with love to
alter the washed shaded tones until
an image emerges, vibrant, lucid, distinct,
bright with light, accentuating primaries,
secondaries, rainbow enhancements.
Some days, I am an abstract without
definition, earthtones in balance, my
design off-center, askew.
Other days, I am a nude, clearly
defined, draped by a velvet
fabric to protect me from elements.
I am one canvas painting myself
over and over again
over and over again.
I cannot remain a bird or
a naked body. I cannot remain
a sculpted face within the belly
of a bird. I am an unfinished painting,
continually revised.
.
.
.
.
.
.
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footnote - thanks, sooZ! I may never finish this!
It's been like that for months. I can't
seem to touch it again though I envision
the completion precisely in my mind, though
not! It keeps changing.