on the edge of breath

on the edge

of breath

the centre point

balanced

on the knife edge

of existence 

the world breathes

through me

it's not a hobby

not a job

this is my life

my reason for living

the activity

that this body

is best suited to doing

I'm not 'expressing myself'

there's nothing 

inside

that I 'have to get out'

it's not me

that's the glory of it

I don't decide on these paintings

concoct them

cleverly situate them

along side

past works 

'contribute'

to the history of art

I bow down

to the shapes

and dreamscapes

of the natural world

stare deeply

into the lips

of a barnacle

clinging to a rock

trace

the archetypal 

shapes

of its myriad forms

drown

in the eternity

of its black

centre

.