summer of the painting

i want to live in a

light house.

 

it’s

time.

 

these wrinkles

and lines need

 

something to open

and close

 

with a light

inside.

 

you have the

gift.

 

you are starting

to believe it.

 

you are starting to

love your self

 

to

pieces:

 

a solitary wing

with its lantern

 

pair flapping in the

distance;

 

a flickering

cyclops

 

watching

the seasons;

 

a window;

a wind—

 

to speak through

and in and on

 

and on

and anon.

anselm-kiefer-wolundlied-1982

Song of the Wayland, Anselm Kiefer

 

 

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