Her wrists cross like wings at rest;
they do not flutter.
The fan lays silent in repose;
her hair hangs limp.
In the stillness of a stolen moment:
broken branches,
and yet new growth.
Both based on Will Barnet's paintings.
WATT'S GNUS:
Yves Saint Laurent dies:
"I've known fear and terrible solitude," he said. "Tranquilizers and drugs, those phony friends. The prison of depression and hospitals. I've emerged from all this, dazzled but sober."
ME:
Having internet, computer, broadband problems. Don't ask! Nothing else resolved either.
Kansas: somewhere around 85 degrees and pleasant.
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