We work in the dark. 
We do what we can.
We give what we have.
Our doubt is our passion.
Our passion is our task.
The rest is the madness of art.

-

Henry James

 

 

Follow on Bloglovin

follow on bloglovin'

 



"A complicated, romantic thing involving paper scraps, stringed instruments and phases of the moon"
« the thought wears me down til I sleep the sleep of fever | Main | The Life and Opinions of the Novel »
Monday
Aug062012

streets are painted yellow, bread was heavier than the stereo

  digitally color treated found images
 
 
- -

your eyes were still as blue as any bruise
and sometimes I get the feeling, friend
theres nothing I can lose

search the sky outside your window
thirsty rain is falling back
and it looks like it could last

but it could pass


 

 

Reader Comments

There are no comments for this journal entry. To create a new comment, use the form below.

PostPost a New Comment

Enter your information below to add a new comment.

My response is on my own website »
Author Email (optional):
Author URL (optional):
Post:
 
All HTML will be escaped. Hyperlinks will be created for URLs automatically.