Wow, Melissa. Wow...Wow.

Swear by black ink for creativity, but they’ve all betrayed me, spilling only shades of blue. Like Picasso, but not brilliant. Like Van Gogh on the day he severed his ear, blood pooling senselessly across the palette — smearing any sense of artistic vision — is this what it really means to see red — sensibilities in raging blind fury — hearing only the roar of the void through the wound of absence. Like Beckett, my humor turned black, my mind a derelict tramp of indecision — waiting for inspiration that never arrives, like Godot.
Chasing the Flow: A Prose-Poem
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Melissa Coffey
Jenine Bsharah Baines
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Dec 3, 2021
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Wow, Melissa. Wow...Wow.
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Written by Jenine Bsharah Baines3K Followers
·683 Following
J…Jen…Jeni…Jenine... Proper names are poetry in the raw. (W.H. Auden) Poet, singer, seeker, hippie grandmother gleefully revealing herself
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