I paint fire and in mud.
I paint reds and greens and I make love
I am the artist in your dreams, far
at the end of the street
in the dark alleyways
and star-lit night
with man and nature,
the city and the wild. For I am all of it.
And it is me. Works
through me in music,
in colors and words.
In action, breath and voice. In the way I dress.
In movement and stillness
and the drumbeat-ing pulse of life.
Dig. I wear these silver rings like tattoos of old
amulets are chains
marking scars of journeys past
and presenting myself
before you, long ago
In drops of tears and cries of joy.
Look in my eyes
that grin, that wink all sly
Meet me by the river tonight, man
the swamp is high and the city…
the city is alive