I might happily have thrived at another crossroads
Painting in oils in neoplatonic archness. A patch of white zinc
To follow a flightpath out /

A green thumb trying to paint and cover

A chocking space with dabs of marine titanium, dabs that dilate
Blurring the root truth of setbacks for over an hour —

A genocidal collage of screens, diversions
Rocking to agitated waves, reproached, converged
In drumming opinions and science-y practices — How the world is!