THE PAINTED ROOM

The artist stands across the room
flinging his cerulean blue
at canvases, it stains his shoes.
today they’re blue, tomorrow maroon.
the walls are covered with a mist
of purple pigment, tossed and missed.
windows, curtains, floors, and shelves all hit.
the blindfolded artist winds up for the pitch.
every time the man unmasks
he’s not surprised to see the mess.
the shocking thing that he can never grasp,
right before him stands a blank canvas.