Spencer Smith is a University of Utah graduate and works in the corporate world to pay the bills that poetry doesn’t pay (i.e., all of them). His work has appeared in over forty literary journals, including Main Street Rag, Potomac Review, Tribeca Poetry Review, RHINO, and Roanoke Review.
The artist sits alone among grains of sand,
brushed with colors of dusk, a dry palette
much larger than his skilled hand, and ponders
his masterpieces gracing galleries and tempting wallets,
his name like chocolate on the tongues of the masses.
A lick of brine tastes his feet and retreats, depositing
a kelp-kissed stick, a stylus of possibilities.
His fingers enfold it, and with a familiar feel
it conforms to calluses and contours like a favorite brush.
He scratches lines and curves upon the grainy canvas,
transferring his tired visage to the earth, his own mien
smoothing and blanking in a relaxed blood-drain of self.
Finished, the artist sits alone among grains of sand,
watching the wash of surf erase his face.