Poetry by JC Snyder

the way this art makes me feel
i am then
like a swinging porch door creaking open and banging shut
teasing in anticipation of a cool stormy breeze
and i am then
the way lovers can exchange eyes and express a novel of fantasy
without words – without time
and i am
then this streak of paint hurriedly feasting on its own kind and laying back in
carnal exhaustion.