At 14 (A Poem)
Why Christian Music Must Die

Color Me (A Poem)

Color MeClip_image002_28

          He's painting
my house, eyes
tracing every wall
every corner
every crevice,
seeing what was/ is/ will be.
Fill in the holes.
Cover the ugly.
Dab putty on the creases.
Scrape & smooth it
flat and seamless.

          He's painting
that measure-mark that charted growth,
that crayon-mark of (mis) placed art,
each chair-met wall a conversation kept, every
hole ---
all gone.

          He wields
his wand & colors leap &
snake across these walls
bright &
new &
two-coat deep,
just so deep.

Can you color me?
Can you give this gray man hue?