He bought a dip pen to streak and blot, an old spring keyboard to clack: a constant irritation and not more.

He drew from life and created lives. Exaggerated everything. Wetted the paper so it formed hills and valleys and removed some of the comprehensible.

He sent these pages into crowds, body a pillar fixed to a platform with red hands; their eyes regarded the images; lashes dampened, cheeks raised in smiles; his own leered over mere dead drafts.

 

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s