1 a.m. poetry, because.

And like smoke
a horse's form
was born.

speeding like a shot
through the gulfing spaces
that threaten to swallow up everything around them,
that reach out greedily
and caress what is near
with a sly grin and vacuous motives.

who knows why we do what we do
that question is not a question,
after all.

look closely, but don't forget
that existence exists, on the far reaches.
it is all around you,
(endlessly)
peripheral and embedded.

be your own reason.
live as the wide open spaces,
and let the connections take their tenuous hold.

because we can all feel it-
what is wild can be tamed

Giffy goodness.

take your forms wrestled from the void and get the hell out

So... Wayne White!

Is weird. 
And even though something inside compels me to flee from his paintings, there is something creepy and mysterious that draws me in. Some favorites:

The power of words, and art born from other art.