When Werewolves Paint

Capturing inspiration

is like trying to paint on moonlight

and the acrylic just drips to the floor

while the sun’s light

that is now reflected as the moon’s light

splashes against the white canvass

and plays shadow puppets

like kabuki theater behind a sheet

illuminated by floodlights

directed by a god

who left to take his smoke break

knowing no matter what

he did

this dance of midnight

would find its rhythm without him

still, for the painter it’s not enough

the painter needs to frame what he has seen

but this scene can’t be caught in a frame

like a cigarette lives and dies by the flame

trying to paint tomorrow’s sunrise

is as much a waste of time as tracing its outline

just ask the painter

who looks down on the ground

and sees red paint splats

in a pale imitation of a bad Jackson Pollack

when what he wanted to capture

was the moonlight

that now has found a black and white spectrum of its own

upon the very canvass that meant to capture it.

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