Monday, September 22, 2003

Cubist View with Narrative
Three children, one looking like Lawrence when he was younger, resentful of his mother; the other two, the flip side without a father.

I don't understand how he cannot see this, recognize how our children swim in the same hurt.

A single bird chirps outside my window, still dark with morning. Moyshe Segal's goats prance along Leona Canyon; everywhere fierce and distorted life.

No comments: