For Dali

Your clocks have melted,
time slips into morphing shapes,
hangs from a tree limb
precariously
like your hold on reality.
Dark images, tangled thought;
your confusion
and your  limitless genius
sliding, flying,
slapping
the canvas of life.
Boldly, buoyantly,
defiantly,
your footsteps trace
a collage of faces.

One comment

  1. Love this!

    The melting clocks, the hold on reality.

    I remember when my children were young.
    We lived in Florida and I would take them to museums.
    I took them to the Salvador Dali Museum in St. Pete.

    There was one painting, I explained to my youngest
    his interpretation of God was in the painting.

    She said, “I don’t think God looks like that.”
    “But I better be quiet or God might turn me into a duck.” :0)

    Very much enjoyed.
    Kerri

    Like

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