Flesh lakes of Hazel's colours <br /> Stretch out in the heat <br /> Colours nibbling all over New Orleans <br /> On curls of ribbons of green and wit <br /> And across the canvases stroked by her daydreams <br /> <br /> No academy's marble centaur <br /> Diverts her from planting on canvas <br /> Her teasing faces that spy on you <br /> "She tosses away her muffins for eagles <br /> "Far from ossified teachers of cramp" <br /> <br /> She needs a canvas from her daydreams <br /> With her recall too giddy for error <br /> Sometimes she tickles upon a canvas <br /> More sounds even than pigment <br /> Her work plans love to erupt <br /> Like a crater of rebels <br /> <br /> She's a child who reversed the rainbow <br /> Sketched through chats with artists <br /> Hazel in teasing oils and water colours <br /> Jests at the wash of her products <br /> Her paint brushes have been feathered <br /> Like Argonaut's oars curving through time<br /><br />John King-Farlow<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/eulogy-for-my-mother-hazel-guggenheim-mckinley-a/
