Bricolage

lest I wander,
Always do.
Lest I am lost,
 always am,
In the progression of my contraries,
I swift, sidle , and flitted past.
In all the twists I meander
never timid in my sharp turns
and the bends smooth, but the intent lasts.
brush strokes, sprayed and mopped.
Then a careful , light placed incline
to the paint in the backdrop slopped.


A pastel here, smudged by the undertone
of starker, darker and bold,
cutting, plastered, origami papered
and at the edges not center, the paste shall hold.
here a fact strewn, there, a logic misplaced
left to their devices, but never overlooked in glaze.

Swiftly I phase,
Swiftly I unlearn,
add a florid wrapped paper parcel,
I'll scratch off the fixing tapes.
Cutting confetti from the silver,
and mashing the ribbons scraped.

Turn the boxes upside down,
house in one,
rest in another.
and cut holes from the cardboard,
string them to the life sized doubles.
peep out through the vents,
smooth in their edges,
but not in my intent.

then when all the sundry gathered
and turned and twisted in potpourri,
fragrant chaos rises, coloured in chance,
do not sift or pick or tidy
, just add my bottled romance.
Stain it with my wine,
let it run over the work.
let it bathe in it's full bodied nature,
Like my blood has filled it's veins,
Like my blood is oozed and drained,
with the trickle of a passion,
A bricolage embodied.
An emanation
of all possible
and the erst en-caged probable.