Pigeons

Those flittering scenes that
traipse through the windows,
those relics of discourse,
the redolence of vivacity -
Godforsaken duration
in witless observation.
I will paint pigeons.

Neither tangible nor abstract,
Not seen or heard or smelt.
I will paint this stark creation
with words of life by word of mouth.

I will sing a rock, a tree, the sky
With the audacity of flesh.
Lift existence from obscurity and relish
in its enigma.
I will place life on my easel and I -
I will paint pigeons.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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