Poem: A Painter (by Daniel Dong)

The man stands at

Somewhere on earth.

His face wrinkles the

Footage he tried before.

Oh the beard

Milky River in a damp,

deep, hollow old valley.

He holds a brush,

His face a flush.

Here’s another stroke.

An ideal since he is ten-year-old.

A creamy layer thickens

The paint called Reality.

An action for the ideal

Since his ancestry.

But the paint,

Thicker and thicker,

Thicker and thicker,

Though most bright and colorful,

Seems transparent.

By his stoke on every layer.

He pouts like a kid,

Still not giving up.

“I will add this layer,

And the color will be

What I see”

So the strokes,

for the ideals.

Thicker and thicker

Thicker and thicker.

Coherent,

Yet transparent.

Dot, smash,

Twirl, Swipe!

Heartbroken.

Now the layers,

Sicker and sicker

Sicker and sicker. 

A frustration of a mind

A brush in a hand

Another layer in a paint

A man in a universe

A whimper and a reality.