Wednesday, February 21, 2007


I pulled off the last sheet of watercolour paper from my block.

I'm wondering if it isn't okay.


When I'm done with these three hallway pieces.

I'm done with sharing heart.

I can paint with tissue and blood.
Shit and mud.
Your face and mine.
Beer and wine.
A childs cry.
The birds that die.
I can paint with anything.
Faded porch.
Twisted swing.

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