Thursday, November 26, 2015
Sunday, November 8, 2015
While Suzanne Holds The Mirror
(As photographed before I dropped it...I have a habit of keeping drawings in pristine condition for weeks while I work on them and then I somehow lose control at the last minute and drop them and dint them. A few years ago I cried when I dropped a drawing. Today I chose not to hate myself because it's only a little crease; it doesn't change the drawing. I need to become less precious with work and know that I will make much more in the future...)
Saturday, November 7, 2015
Thursday, November 5, 2015
Rebecca
You told me
how you had been
in a similar situation.
I took that piece of information away with me
and considered
the who, when, where...
I feel strange watching those two actors lying in bed together
naked
I don't believe they have ever kissed,
He is so much older,
She is young and a word like naive,
yet not naive,
figuring things out as fast as she can.
I wonder if she loves him.
I remember that middle of the night when I couldn't sleep so I turned to my side
and switched on the lamp to pick up my worn old second favourite copy of Rebecca
to read from where I had last left off.
I managed a few silent pages before you became aware of the light and
put your arm around me under the dark patterned quilt.
Everything felt dark, soft and peaceful in that room,
the little bedside lamp the only point of focus.
I've turned to Rebecca in times of need,
it is one of the only books I have re-read.
I wonder if it is slipping away from me though,
as I grow older.
I don't feel the same as I did then.
I have changed in some infinitesimal way...
how you had been
in a similar situation.
I took that piece of information away with me
and considered
the who, when, where...
I feel strange watching those two actors lying in bed together
naked
I don't believe they have ever kissed,
He is so much older,
She is young and a word like naive,
yet not naive,
figuring things out as fast as she can.
I wonder if she loves him.
I remember that middle of the night when I couldn't sleep so I turned to my side
and switched on the lamp to pick up my worn old second favourite copy of Rebecca
to read from where I had last left off.
I managed a few silent pages before you became aware of the light and
put your arm around me under the dark patterned quilt.
Everything felt dark, soft and peaceful in that room,
the little bedside lamp the only point of focus.
I've turned to Rebecca in times of need,
it is one of the only books I have re-read.
I wonder if it is slipping away from me though,
as I grow older.
I don't feel the same as I did then.
I have changed in some infinitesimal way...
Wednesday, November 4, 2015
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