simply the usual potter.
And it appeared the supreme God of the mud,
which amassed the land to create the world, to create man, then create woman, poppies and roses.
Knead, knead join hands, let out the clay between your fingers so that the result of all that work out the current Angel Muriel.
Clay yes,clay who stroked the line, if that ended up flooding of colors. And all meats were kneaded in a world unknown scrum secret imaginings.
But ... What do we mean secret? . Just ask Muriel response or who prefer to invent.
The writer, being the frontier painter becomes Herodotus.
hich becomes in the eyes pure beam,/ strained flag or strict geometry./ The oblique perspective to the stands,/ and an overhead light
that hovers / illuminates the environment, the result / could be Muriel if signed / such a multitude of faces to drift, / Hustlers reason and abracadabra,/ which calls for followers anxiolytics / wait a spell unmoored./ Sometimes the crowd is diluted, / when
the brush is tired of words / and is duped into clouds and sterility / soon make you long for the grass / greens cliff, the Extremadura / of a stiffer range facing the sky. / In the ranges of blood Gorky was / ready to battle like a hero / beyond grilled and
lips / mouth only are other fruit. / Matta, preferred fog and neon / / Flashing window dressing / insecticide start a scene. / (It was not the sunlight that counted).
When the plane is in paint crowd / and millions of eyes focus / front of the picture-window of the story ...
When the stain is more than trace / simple brush when something beats / beyond the light representing, / and trembling seizes space / a mystery that ceases to be / painting becomes master of the air, / and field so precise, art emerges as some key lifetime.
Follow the trail of a bleeding / on snow staunch his wounds.