blood trees in crevasses
of skin on my finger
from an accidental scrape
not another paper cut
while folding book pages
i hear a saxophone player
outside endeavours for art
supplies store and
walking drums from
nearby alleyway
thursday craft market
filled a request
for a photograph
of me for a new
brunswick authors
portal in development
then we were video'd
by charles leblanc
for one of his blogs
with the question
"what are you selling
in this store?" answered
"we're selling a way
of life—the creative
life—artmaking"
hot chocolate coffee
spilled on a journal
page with a piece
of guardhouse roofing
slate hot glued to it
and this poem
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment