To whom hears me approaching
beforehand of the night’s prelude
As I near your window slide open
the drapes, but don’t obscure view
My easel awaits with a barren canvas,
and you mon cher are my muse
I only ask you a few strands of your
ebony tresses to mend my brush anew
So to pull both my worlds, orbits,
and rotations, as to say “Queen give me
you”
And so to give you-you from another
aspect, by my Neptunian artistic rule
To let me witness every single respect
til I have stroked all of your plurals
Thereby going outside of the lines
turning you into my cosmic mural
—JG ©2026
Quick Note: In addition to writing
poetry I am a forever student of
fine arts.

