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we are, all of us fluent chameleons practicing our body language under a mercenary sun drunk and hapless behind the curtains of another life we seek a power greater than color we are told at the equinox there will be fireworks and rooftops but the invitation is a little hole in the worst part of ownership where our shoulders either wear shoes or send sleep like a postcard to a long lost reservoir where nobody is making coffee for the dead and the living are getting angry like cameras whose colors lurk outside the very idea of colors; we are all of us fluent beyond syllables painting mostly mercenary suns because the last shade on the palette is simply within. |
| Peter Schwartz's writing and art appear extensivlely all over the internet. Google his name for a comphehensive listing of work. email: pupil@watchtheeye.com |
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