How feebly painted are all those hands! Droopy, weedy, standardized across all portraits.... And how gay are the Stuart Brothers?
About Me
- Christine
- I'm scrabbling at the sand again. I pray:Waves! be Kind! Don't suck me down like a piece of spaghetti. I pray for firm footing, Hands free at last Of this gritty softness. I wish I could be a fish, Silver, swooping with the shoal, And not so bent on being upright. Sloshing between here and there, With here so hard to hold. Always facing belonging Without knowing what's needed. But I am angry. This flotsam life, grudging, makes me rage. Those well-oiled door-keepers, They hate the sand. And I never give up Jamming my crampons Into that shifting here.
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