all i had was gouache, but i wanted to make a shirt.
so i just used red pen and it worked.
it's just triangles and The Books anyway.
tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow never comes soon enough; sampled cocorosie (such a marvelous name) and enjoyed it. i still feel unfeeling. i want to lay in tall grass like waves around me. do they still know me?
i was sitting reading waiting to go home and i smelled n's hair and chest
i wrote "rich gets richer, poor gets poorer" on my computer. and tried to make art tonight. wrote wrote wrote wrote response notes and am so tired. i'm like a log. all day and day and night into morning to day to dusk to night to dawn untilde i've been rolling through the forest down to your grave,
and i land at the bottom. this is where i am now.
i am a log, i've been sitting and waiting for so long in this forest for something to happen. abelard moves into me during winter for protection, the frog visits, abel leaves.
moss is growing and buzzing fuzzing bumbles fly through the briar brambles around me. the world turns and tuck drinks water from the spurt in the ground. an apple falls. a boy falls.
but i stay
right
there
waiting