This is the first layer of the second piece, but I’m going to let it dry all the way before trying anything else. These are aimed at seeing what water and paint will do on paper. Continue reading →
Others, smelling the warm, moist nights recall •
when love first broke the winter’s long silence Continue reading →
an unnamed tree of yearly glory blown •
just now not an anonymous green hiding Continue reading →
I could have sat outside in the sunshine •
with my moleskine and pencil and pen Continue reading →
I gather the sky up with my fingers •
holding it up in the gently cupped palms
Continue reading →
A fine quotation is a diamond on the finger of a man of wit, and a pebble in the hand of a fool.
