Aiming for a creative life

I Am Santo

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Diving from the sun.
Piercing eyes,
a flare,
the shine of a stare
too long at hope
and warm acceptance.
Dance with the periphery,
live at the corners
with affordable prisms
that skitter as insects
under scrutiny,
fearful of capture.
Hold out hands,
flex fingers
and find gold play
and coal shade
drift with each turn
of the wrist.
The broken glimpse
cannot be clasped
in any hold
but that of the eyelid,
vision stealing angles
of phosphorescent greens,
lightning blues,
cordial oranges,
and the yellow core
of celestial pull;
a little piece of stardust
laying at the edge of your frame.

To see what's what in the world of Santo

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