Its not that I am painting
I am the paint
All browns and creams and yellows
Slurping across the canvas
In oily smudgery doo's

In some way
The brush the hand the mind that moved
The inspiration and the soul
Merged mythology and dream
As I flexed and writhed majestically

I was middled on the canvas
Centre stage as though
A sort of lava overflowed
Full of fire
On the brink of my vitality

Keith Thompson
2nd December 1998