Where Color Lives

Normally neat, orderly,
life and home organized,
always ready for company,
things in their place, easy
to find. Not quite obsessive
but consistent,

except here, in art and love,
the the deepest places
of my heart,
where madness reigns,
and passions
make no sense, and can never be found
until they are ready,
where life
is gloriously out of control.

About this poem. 

Actually, I think this one probably needs no explanation. It actually says what it means.

The picture is of my Studio table. Thanks Max, where ever you are. (Max gave me the table.)

Tom