Joyce Kim

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The Best Poem Of Joyce Kim

The Painting Man

Stroke…
Brush…
Splatter…
Wipe…
Grin…
Dip…
Stroke…
Brush…
Whistle…
So is The Painting Man
Sliding in out and out of realism
The abstract way of life
Then the concrete and physical way of life
Now the philosophical way of life
The square screams out
Make my sides rounder
I am not meant to be what I am
I want to be the shape of the universe
Perfectly round
Sphere or Circle
Does it even matter?
The Painting Man is but an envoy for the grand, unspoken feelings of this great void of humanity
He does not make art
The art makes him
His senses are not used
They are extraneous details
He does not see with his eyes
His eyes see for him
The Painting Man sees beauty in the hard loaves of bread
Beauty in the Hetero-chromic kittens left to die in the sewer
Beauty in an old man's beard
They say he puts the Creations in places they are not supposed to be There are no mistakes
The Creations have a language all their own
They sway in the wind
He chooses to listen
Not with his ears
They say there is beauty in brevity
They say do what you love and you will live a full life
He will not live a full life
He will live forever
Up and down to the steady rhythm of his paint strokes
They whisper to him
Paint me
Make me come alive
Breathe life into me
Beckoning. Pleading
And he listens
Hears the call of the unborn
Welcomes them into the world
The Painting Man
Whistle
Stroke
Splatter
Wipe
Grin

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