She’s ink and charcoal
on canvas unprimed,
pencil shavings and
spilled thinner,
a pallette smudged in
zig-zagging rainbows.
She’s bent bristles,
the rain-kissed
sketchbook, streaking,
a crooked-legged easel,
spattered with
works unfinished.
She’s the clumsy shades,
the awkward hues,
creativity you can’t
keep within the lines.
Cameron Lincoln. 2017.
