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Dead woman's paintings

yesterday I was viewing
a dead woman's paintings
they felt in a way
that I don't really know how to describe
they had vigor
and some unusual sturdiness
forethought
some kind of slyness
 
they were free from criticism, regularities
coincidences, banalities, grey hairs
 
yesterday I was viewing
a dead woman's paintings
they felt in a way
like life was right at the door
they had smallness
and some celebratory feeling
escapism
fallen dreams
 
they were free from criticism, regularities
coincidences, banalities, grey hairs
 
they lived, they speaked, they panted, grieved
they flickered like fire arms full of open wounds
they set the direction
told to bury the urn where the sun don't shine
where the dead woman is missed
is the dead woman missed
is the dead woman missed
is the dead woman missed
is the dead woman missed
is the dead woman missed
is the dead woman missed
is the dead woman missed
 
(does anyone miss)
(does anyone miss)
(does anyone miss)
(does anyone miss)
(does anyone miss)
(does anyone miss)
(does anyone miss)
(does anyone miss)
 
yesterday I was viewing
a dead woman's paintings
they had faith
and some devilish hope
bagfuls of love
live and dead
 
they lived, they speaked, they panted, grieved
they flickered like fire arms full of open wounds
they set the direction
told to bury the urn where the sun don't shine
where the dead woman is missed
is the dead woman missed
is the dead woman missed
is the dead woman missed
is the dead woman missed
is the dead woman missed
is the dead woman missed
is the dead woman missed
 


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