In the immaculate white studio
Stands a vase
With a single artificial tulip,
Leaves painted white.
Silent in his laboratory smock,
The artist, pale and calm,
Peers through his glasses
At the latest experiment.
He loathes the colour green,
Cannot bear to look at trees.
Once he painted them,
Singular,isolated,
Architectural oddities.
Watchtowers.
Tree:
Shellburst
Of twisting torments
Surging outwards
In ecstasy.
Rapt.
Titanic evolution
In an instant.
Concentrated
Agonisingly,
Held together
Against all odds.
Lines of force:
Branches, twigs.
Ferocious tension
Of equations,
Pluses and minuses
Battling.
All objects are monstrous.
They hurt you
With separateness,
Doomed.
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