MY ART
I cannot describe what I feel when hose first
washes of color and lines are placed on the paper, and the subject begins to
take form.
It becomes – it simply becomes – and I am an
intricate and vital part of that becoming. I am part of the birth of that image,
an image that will eventually be seen by another. Perhaps they will be able to share in that becoming when
some part of their life, and a memory, or feeling, tucked quietly away
somewhere will be awakened.
And their life, for a brief moment, will be
linked to mine.
6/80
FOR ME
Who would know my dreams, my fears
All the hopes through all the years
My rooms, my spaces, large and small
Would anyone really care, at all
Books and journals, neat and tattered
Which in my time were all that mattered
An empty pen, long since gone dry
That in its time kept my
World of dreams and aspirations
Bound in notes and illustrations
When I depart for who knows where
Will anybody really care
About all the things I cherished so
And with great reluctance, let them go
2/21/78
