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

Thursday, December 6, 2012


we drive along beside the field trying to capture the colour

but as soon as we stop the colour dissolves, or rather it becomes its singular parts, paltry sticks of grey and orange.

but as we were moving it was a distant blaze; it was a quiet inferno in the eye that threw out the eye and descended into the heart; it recognized something in the vein.

but standing here amongst the sticks i am lost; i have not arrived.

and so where does colour live?

move, young girl. run! faster! and don't look back. there is a wolf chasing you into existence;  it gives you everything you'll ever love.