i could not sleep so i picked up the pad and a pencil and she revealed herself from the depths of my fatigue and insomnia.
this is the poem i wrote after i finished the sketch. i edited it this morning and thought they should go together:
END OF LIFE (oct. 26, 2006)
it comes not with surprise
nor with fanfares of brass.
it is more like a season;
the centered calmness of autumn.
quiet gentle slopes sheathed in leaves;
sheathed in quieting noises
that wrap like a gentle repose
descending over the detritus of
summer's extravagance;
summer's vibrant spectra.
it comes not in malice raucous
but in a rustle of twigs, leaves and feathers.
it is an awaited sensation;
the shy touch of intimacy,
silky stretches beneath terminal sheets
undulating like a sleepy caterpillar
anticipating the chrysalis,
expecting the drunkenness of
autumn's frugality;
autumn's monochromatic tones.
end of life does not argue,
does not try to make explanations.
end of life seeps like soothing cold
finding no resistance in tired tissues.
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