Conversations With Dracaena
My friend Susan paints
the technicolor dreams of plants.
She sees the sparkling joy behind
the skin of fluid fiber form.
She dances with her plants
and puts the dance on paper.
The air around her hands
is thick with spattered rainbows.
You know she goes through changes
and paints them all behind her.
She goes an ancient way to God --
paint is Breath of Heaven.
For her, there's prism eyes of fire.
She reflects a jeweled pattern --
paints a diamond sunshine,
prints a glittering beneath.
She paints the thought before the deed,
the wish toward which we move,
the orchestration of electric gesture,
the choral harmony of nerves,
liquid crystal cells,
a showering of sparks,
pouring through the form,
the pulsing circuitry,
the messages we send
through unmapped space
between each solid thought.
"Conversations With Dracaena," from "Conversations With Dracaena," a chapbook of 8 hand-tipped lithographs of monotypes by Susan Fishgold, and 20 poems by Susan Chapman, Word Merchant Press, Brooklyn, NY, 1982