Sunday, 18 March 2007

The sculpture as she burned...

A drawing I did reciantlyish of a woman hearding a hare with a stick and a cat...

Broken Twig

A twisted form of green backed lichen bone
Who had danced to the winds hollow hand
Now poised, broken ends flung down
Toe-pointed elegance upon the solid land
This is our destiny, fate uncoiled
Set free and carried in life’s lovers wild arms
We who'd brake your trust can not,
For even in death we're held in your charms