OCR Text |
Show The Brush Reminds Paint of Itself a dory slips downstream, bellwethering for some swans-the river all watercolor, flies washed so lightly-a fish leaping from bright blue water sings of his painter-the wicker creel is satchel for his palette-the sky water, and the river oil-open your ear to the canvas which is angels singing-more water, more color-corbeil of blue-the meadow asks something new of light-katsura cosseted-the fisherman's orange gives air some shape-paddleboats sidewise-now a charcoal motorcycle along the far bank -tar mess!-the back tire spits sand every whichway-the sand is stars-tiny grains of light scattered across the seraphim |