Ghost of a Genius

Klee’s genius ghost resides in an Edinburgh gallery

Its pals silver seamstresses, French, at work next to

Houses left on fire by unhappy artists

Inciting flaming trees to melt cool Mondrians

Matte white bordered in black, cornered in yellow

You can hear the hiss below

The Swiss have talent painting ghosts

Yet most spirits are stateless and must travel

Genius ghosts by tradition, to find

The purpose of an instant may last ten thousand years

As non and plus-humans beyond our planet

Write songs in dimensions not yet discovered

In tonal languages speedily built

Each word constructed to alter reality

Even a genius feels their sheer force

As smudged colors gazing at his drunken head

What we are and should be

He will convey and illustrate

Long before the unborn tell us why