First Taste

 I want to get 

back to origins. 

To the first taste 

of color on papyrus. 

Back to when berries 

hit the cave walls 

in Lascaux, waiting to

hear the squish of fruit,

the tussle and snort of 

the bison before its 

rusty pigments set. 

How long did they 

soak the walnut husks 

to make the eternal 

ink that covered so 

many scrolls and 

vellum sheaves? 

What sound did the 

words create as 

they were scrolled out 

fresh and new on 

the virgin page? That 

is the un-struck sound 

I want to know and feel. 

True poetry;

true art.