As the sweet dream of absinthe, so bitter to taste.
The artist, the poet and magi sit
inspired by the surrealist’s sun.
The artist with canvas, the poet with his wit.
Shimmering colors glide and dance and mystify,
this hour between day and night.
A wave and a feeling one cannot describe.
The secrets of the deep orange, red and purple light.
Soothed by the violet and moved by the midnight blue
The fool, and the Magi, The World, Queen of Cups
and the Knight of swords races toward you.
A myriad of worlds filtered through a sugar cube.
3 Comments
Beautiful~
LOVELY!
Very nice, Mikey. Feel like heading out to Mars today? I hear Cydonia is lovely this time of year. I hope you’re awake because I am about to call you.
I know I mentioned posting one of my illustrations with the poem, but I think sometimes poems are best left up to the imagination as this one creates quite a stir of images when you read it.