RAISON D’ETRE by Oliver Pitcher.

Over the eye behind the moon’s cloud
over you whose touch to a Stradavari heart shames
the chorale of angels over Mr. Eros
who tramples the sun-roses
and sits amid willow trees to weep
over the wood over the vibrant reds, blacks, luminous gold’s of decay
over the strength of silence and advantages of

over the geyser in the toilet bowl
over the cynical comma over the madness
itself the occupational hazards of artist
over the catcher caught in his catcher’s mitt
over oil and opal, blood and bone of
the earth

over the iron touch behind pink gloves
over retired civilizations sunken below levels
shimmering in rusty luster
over myself I wave the flag raison d’etre……..