Dear Shayla,
What do you do to #BeatTheBlues, to rise from the depths of darkness and keep going with all your might? I don’t know that I go to many dark places anymore. I get sad sometimes, but I take solace in the fact I’ve managed to make a small life for myself where I get to be an artist. Perhaps writing is the thing that soothes me. What has been the most exciting project you’ve been involved in recently? |
Photo: courtesy of the artist |
Whenever I see a girl brandish plums in spring : I imagine she steals them I love to think of a woman / as a thief I love to think of how she steels for what she needs Scribes : reserves her tastes all winter Cuts nectar of future- /spoils in ink I love to think of how ink eats :: the girl devouring her bounty under a tree- \ like sonnet S he purloins the composition of its veiny bowels Scourges the stiff pit on the hull of her mouth Lifts its node between her lips like an exquisite expedition She knows she will not defraud time \-’s intrepid harvest She watches the persimmons no one buys at market How their gnarled sweet /-like knuckles recall the gamboled blossoms of their once \-red bounty Crooked as they are : they still brace each other between breezes |