The Cutting Room
*
The little ship is righted, for now. The seas have calmed and sunlight warms the decks.
Gulls mackle in the breeze behind us, raucous and beligerent.
Everything feels fresh.
*
I don't mean to complain so much. I know I'm blessed to struggle as I do.
*
Namaste, y'all.
*
posted by tearful dishwasher at 10:23 AM
9 Comments:
Dude.
I've been calling my cat, Bob, dude alot lately.
As in: C'mere, little dude.
I'm gonna call you dude too.
Dude.
I'm running with scissors.
They're dull. Those little kiddie round-edged scissors.
But I'm still running.
What I need is that human-sized pair of scissors in that there piece of art you've created.
Can I have 'em? Please, please please?
spooky. haunting.
now what's that ladder for??
these brilliant pictures should be used in therapy. we each could conjure some story or other in looking at them, that would serve as a keyhole peek
into the inside.
This should be titled How To Revise A Poem.
xor
weird--I had a dream like this except there we no scissors, just me and the ladder in an old room just like this--the feeling is spot on.
--I thought maybe it was renovation time. (empty room, ladder?) I looked out the window and saw the Old Post Office and shops and realized I was looking down on O'Connell Street.
and that was all there was to the dream.
the scissors add a bit of tension!
i think this is a bloody brilliant picture.
You have conjured a beauty of a portait there cowboy... now somebody take the ugly cuffs off that dress; they're messing up the continuity of the thing - plus she might through her back out trying to get out of the thing -- Who dressed that woman anyway?
My god.
waddayathink?
through was supposed to be throw.. or a toss... somthing like that.
btw - I've always had a fondness for that mr clean stuff... nice smell and won't scratch the tub.
I can't stop looking at this. It would make a beautiful cover.
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