Ghost Painter Poem by Mark Heathcote

You take your brushes ghost painters
What is your reason?
I hear a crashing of cymbals
Are you an artist who bleeds in sepals?
Hoping to flower without equals.

Ghost painter what is this…
I’m seeing in your work
Are you just choking back tears?
I and the world long to trace.
Back to the stone, press of a forgotten shore.

Oh god is a breath of honey
With the heart of all things that sting
You can’t brush stroke away
No matter what your gift
Can in collections – oil-paints sing.