// Gregory Gunn
Primarily there was the expressway.
Various brushes & acrylics in my kit,
perspective, distance, and viewpoints
on accordion representative paper.
You chanced upon me a few times
sketching on the shoulder of the road.
I dreamt vivid landscapes, however,
infused traffic calamities instead.
So many victims afforded mishaps
incapable of naming. Our spent silence.
Like a fiddlehead frond, the feeble canoe.
Alienated early autumn down the lake.
Twilight-timid deer and her fawn, beams
of yellow lights liquid over us.
Innocent, we shimmied into whitecaps
pounding ashore. Strong winds excised,
walloping, mountainous moss dead end.
Relief maps disregarded us.
By spotted sumacs. Or was it jewelweed?
We drove through brambly hinterlands.
When I finished framing the canvas,
the rendered result pleased patrons
of the not-so-refined arts.