My to wanting is a red smoke rising – belaboured by the heft.
This is me performing for you. Night|Mo(u)rning happening at the same time of perception (an infinitely chasable sunrise; always happening somewhere).
Time is a meadow not a highway.
I thought the boil of my affections might settle- I thought I could tamper the whistle of my heart’s kettle: but her pitch is rising to the tone that teeth will sing in god’s choir.
A loud and triumphant song.
José Saramago says “if you have a heart made of steel, enjoy it. Mine is made of flesh and it bleeds every day”.
A saw becoming a mountain, and in it the godliness of this- like all things.
24″ X 48″, oil, acrylic and ballpoint pen on recycled material panel. 2023
Kellyann Marie 