not a pretty picture. not a good. not a bad. picture. but an argument.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

but for this madness

but for this madness

i do not understand

and so i drive my body to obelisk, a sacrifice in being, a whore, a knife

i walk silver strident

   something in the rock shines like ice when the sun rises

a crucible

and all about the sky a silver belt

and i count my loves like 

   something in the sky around the stars that shine is vague like rock

and i remain so alone

and i do not understand

blessings all around

with tomorrow coming fast


  1. love the words ant the foto ... I see your mauth, you know I as a painter have a good weye for phisionomie, your mauth has a partucoular form that I like very much

  2. laura, you make me amile. my mouth most certainly has a particular shape that is me but it is not attractive;) but then i realize that to paint is not to paint what is attractive but rather to paint what is. (this is interesting, isn't it, to find those things which make the one thing/person what/who it is.)

    i'm glad you're back)))


  3. A very frustrating image Erin ... one is very tempted to crop the white space away and desaturate, out of fear if nothing else ... and demand the shape of the face by ordering back the contrast ... especially in the light of the words ... it's probably just me but I am driven to rearrange you with either photoshop filters or common sense ... but which ?


"Words at the limit of hearing, attributable to no one, received in the conch of the ear like dew by a leaf." (philippe jaccottet) or even a quiet presence is appreciated))