Monday –

Monday September 24th

I’ve drawn her slightly angled


For the seventh time

And coloured-in two more prints

I had made from my ink drawings

Suddenly she came alive

In the midst of my yearning

To open up her soul

Looking deep into her eyes.


She gazed at my excited being

A gasping artist in the grove

I’ve finally been given

As a present from my Muse

Who watched me from above.


I could feel her eyes warming

Me up and arousing me

Like sweet thunder

Before we would make love.


The pitt-charcoal danced

Upon my heavy paper

It wasn’t me drawing

As I had left to listen to

A McCoy Tyner concert

My Muse had invited me



Or so I gathered from

Past snippets flickering

Thru’ my mind’s eye

Lifting me up high and

Dancing with her

On the clouds.


When my body became one

With the portray of her

I had exhausted myself

Like on her grave in the

First Cemetery of Athens



Before me was one of the

Finished portraits

Of my recreating

Dusky Angel of Life.





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