Seeing Red for Jim Wagner His fingers, stained with burnt sienna, twitched. On canvas a brush stroke can alter everything: The way you see a river or a chair, the time of day, how a body lies in the middle of a room. But the cerulean eyes of the stranger told him nothing could change this. Not the red (who would have known it would be so dark?) that ran from the man's chest, nor the shapes of the shiny pools on the floor. He wished had held his brush.... He'd thought revenge had made his finger flick the trigger. Later he knew held done it to clear his mind, to stretch it tight and clean like the canvas before gesso. When the red-black oozed into a small lake, he saw the rest of the picture. He couldn't help himself. He wanted to fingerpaint the fishmouth gaping wide for air, before the catch was gone. After the cell and years alone, casting imaginary colors across the walls, they let him out. His eyes blinked in the mountain light. He hadn't forgotten what he'd made, though, once on a barroom floor, and he started fishing again in the pools of his palette. Fishwives, furniture, the trout forever swimming through the frame. His color wheel never turned. All he saw was red. from THE, Santa Fe's Magazine For The Arts Artist Jim Wagner on the web   home · resume · recent publications · schedule · technical writing · course offerings list of clients · connecting chord · programs ·  poetry pages · bardic performances · contact Christine Hemp P.O. Box 674 Port Townsend, WA 98368 tel: 360-385-9005