The Blues Dance

What if
the tunnel
wasn’t black,
that
in the midst
of the struggle
you chose
to paint it
bright hues,
madcap
colors
full
of light
and
glorious insanity?
what if,
when
you laughed,
even
sardonically
yellow hues
spilled over
your blues
and
made them
dance?

About this poem

Here is how my mind works. A day or two ago I got a note from William Smith, the artist who did the art work in the picture. It’s about 4 feet tall, made of painted and dyes strips of cloth and hangs upstairs were I get to see it every day, including this morning.

I fight depression every day. I generally win (Yay!). But at times it feels like a tunnel I will never quite emerge from. Poetry is one of my weapons to beat the beast back.

I was playing Dinah Shore’s “Mood Indigo Blues” as began writing this morning, one of the best blues songs she ever did. It’s stuck in my head. I’ll probably be humming it all day now. Not a bad thing.

And from that mix, a poem. It’s a beautiful insanity I live.

Tom

PS, and blatant commercial pitch – If you like the art work, I bought mine at McCartee’s Barn in Salem, NY. I think she still has 2-3 left. (They also sell some of my paintings.)