This poem is floating through my head and I can’t get it out. I’m not sure what it has to do with the painting, but it is where my thoughts are at.I’ve grown accustomed to the slow passing of solitude
Used to the easy silence of myself
heavy with dust -
Turn my pages,
But don’t take me home with you
Read my thoughts,
But only skim the surface
Search the index
Find only what you’re looking for.
I am always found intriguing – just to serious to enjoy
Hold my spine like you would never put me down,
Leave your thoughts in my margins
I feel you, lost between my lines,
You turn my pages slowly,
We might never reach the ending.
I am afraid
Of loosing my permanent spot on the shelf.
Take me away from here!
Take me so far, I cannot find my way back
Into your arms
Wake me buckets of ice water
between both palms
Straight jacket – hold me
Clenched fists -
take my hand.
I cannot remember feeling.
Chisel our names into the ice
That Insulates my chest
Maybe it will crack
Timid whispers into the cavity
Till shattered glass
Shards deep into my silence
I want to know the sounds of your voice
Tell me your name
No promises of forever
Just the two of us
Re-writing love into my memory
So that I can remember feeling
Closing Reception for 30 days : Saturday June 26th, 5-7pm, artist’s talks at 6pm.