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Eyes
you had knocked on my door that evening
with nature wrapped in plastic
you in your gorgeous suit
with your gorgeous eyes
but not the eyes that were mine
you spoke the words that your heart could only shout
and the pour of admiration coming out of your gorgeous eyes
was too much for me to take
(in my mirror I saw a stick
an odd shape, not one hint of sun;
in your mirror you saw heave...
Sunday 15th May 2016 12:51 am
An Artist’s Reflections
My Life is not my art
My art is not my life
Yet we are like husband and wife-
When you know my Art
You begin to know me.
Life is not Art
Art is not Life
Yet they are like reflections
When you know life
You begin to know Art.
Life does not imitate Art
Neither should Art imitate Life
For when art is at its purest
You begin to know
Tr...
Monday 16th November 2009 5:08 pm
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