A painting that whispers and echoes, like something brushing past you in the dark.
A painting that picks its toenails.
A painting that rolls up its pants to cross a stream.
A painting like this film.
A painting like this song.
A painting that can’t figure out how to hold its hands. Just shove them in your pockets, painting!
A painting that swells and heaves a little, in anticipation of birth.
A drawing that is not far from blush and mascara.
A drawing that traces the path of the eye from a page into the room (a conjuring of space inside space).
A drawing that hits the zenith before going for true plumb.
A line that turns gravity into gravitas.
A line that is the body shuddering slightly under the chill of sea air.
A line that sticks a carrot out of the cage in lieu of a finger.
A line that had something to say, but just forgot what it was.
A line that is a dancer with blisters.