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.


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