Sunday, May 12, 2013


I dreamed I was making a painting. Red paint. Poured on. No brush. Smoothing the paint. Hand in surgical glove. Smoothing the paint. Fingermarks. Changing the depth in one area by smoothing with tongue depressor. Paint thickening up. Pressing torn pieces of of paper (napkin? TP?) into the paint. Submerged, stiffened, except for an edge.


Boud said...

Hey, this belongs in Red Spork! it's one of your great prose poems.

Sayre said...

That sounds like it would be an interesting piece of art. Perhaps you should give it a try!