lawn-bird
the lights were dim, reminding me of that same place, same setting, working from the model in the same time. long corridor that held three fixed windows to the back. they had just been put in and the draft has been curbed dramatically since the last time. steel pressed against my back and heated my body almost to the point of being burned, but it was comforting. the wind outside would only be a memory right now in the light, the warm.
she sat in such a provocative pose. she was beautiful. there is something about the way light casts on skin, dancing its way across breadth and life. i didn’t really want to be there, but it was good for me. therapeutic. i would normally take a couple of weeks off of work from a show, but this time would be different. this was the first time i hadn’t felt let-down from a production. i needed to keep going. this was a milestone.
the memory of her there and me there included a certain time of innocents, regret in finding, and time. the memories commingled in the air as i drew and wrote in front of her.
why am i constantly reminded of memory? time? light? the obsessions fill me and lead me in directions that i can’t control. for now i will sit and ponder, as i do so often — i will record and respond and i will live.
poem with the above title
yellow mouse,
blue mouse,
loud lonely cat.
fish-eye pose
fleeting time.
he lay like her,
next to her.
in memory of,
brooklyn nights
and
brooklyn heights.