Do you remember Mike Tea, the illustrator I spotlighted last week? So, he's more talented than he let on to be. He also writes poetry; and pretty damn good poetry at that. Consider this "Sky between the branches," one of his personal favorites:
Sky between the branches
Morning,
and the skies' opening salvos,
Bleed the horizon
in crimson and azure.
a cracked window,
and the icy fingers of a cooler hour linger,
sliding gently across his naked form,
uninvited in this dimness.
eyes open wide,
in the moments of young light,
he dreams wildly.
Hearing his own voice,
singular in that rusting echo,
He gently wipes the condensation
from the damp tin,
hastily erected around his aching heart.
What he feels is not unique.
He knows this all too well.
autumn creeps in through the back door,
revealing itself in full splendor.
Her tired colors push at the horizon,
fighting to explain.
Barefoot, and cold inside
he walks slowly.
moist concrete,
and shades of grey around him.
walking through dead leaves,
they crackle, and concede to the wind.
in faint light,
the colors of his desire burn.
The ocres, and burnt umber.
lamention of a kinder season.
letting go,
falling down,
a transfer of energy.
A selfless offering,
a cycle of things
that cannot be avoided.
Their time together,
as with all others,
a brilliant sliver of this forever.
Another morning breathing life
into the hollow frame of a man.
a single star,
burns without emotion
on the western horizon,
surrounded by the palest of blues.
Who is Mike's favorite poet? Charles Bukowski.
Read my spotlight of Mike's illustrations here.
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