Thursday, May 22, 2008

Portfolio (Airbrushed)

You pick and chose yourself- I know you do it, I can tell.

Privately, you ought, I think, be original. Fine, yet flawed. Some slightly vague organic thing- great, essentially, but green, raw, uncertain. Messy. Young blood that’s mislaid its pretensions, and squirms, graceless,

turning, tricked, dark, damp, dirt and everything.*


I'm watching this cord, outside, flick a shadow on the windowsill. It may be a telephone line, I'm not sure. There's this little square patch of sunlight, and a grey line running back, and forth, across it. Faintly, humble, a metronome- back, forth,



I don't think anyone planned that.

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