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Darn typo, should read But when my work is completed.
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07/28/13 4:40pm
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MIND'S GALLERY
I grasp the stem and make a pass
Across the matted finish.
The picture thus is just as clear
As my imagination.
The image is whet by strokes of luck
And shaded by experience.
Trees and clouds are swept to form,
Buildings are created.
The eyes that now stare back at me
From my glistening production,
Tell me of their unfortunate task,
One easier shown than stated.
This picture is a solemn one,
(Has it justification?)
Only by right of man to have hope or dreams.
This picture is a gorey one,
But it hangs in the galleries of men's minds.
I chisel words on a parchment pad,
But my work is completed,
The hard, cold eyes and frozen mouth
Speak for fear and regret.
The clay I knead into a word
And form with the tip of a pencil,
Tells me a chapter is ending
And another beginning.
Don Becker
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07/28/13 4:37pm
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