Time to make things, time to get down to it, time to think about things I've read and dreamed.
Time to fly away into the Fifi zone.
Time to smell the cadmium orange, time to smear wax, scratch the buff titanium and let run the Madder lake,
wipe and spread the cobalt blue, time to listen to the sing of naples Yellow,
Time to softly scratch the charcoal time to put seaweed in the sky time to sing about nabokov and listen to the memory of panes of glass covered by curtains. Gum Turpentine smells green even.
time to run my finger along the edge of arches paper, six hundred forty grams per square inch, cold pressed, look how it stands up by itself.
Paper,
I love paper.
I am being looked at on monday. Time to get busy, in the nest of fish
