Back when I was still married and my boys were young, we had a favorite restaurant. It was called The Orange Balloon. Back then we were good looking and we had good jobs and we could afford good food served to us by good looking people.
My first painting, that one. I remember / the feeling that the light was creating / the shade, somehow, of coming into November, / of always turning, never waiting. // But I've always been waiting.
Breath fills the decayed tree. The sky is still / a syllable. Light lives inside those wings. We have / no word to describe the insects’ tremors beneath / the bark, or to measure the currents between here / and the next tree. What do we know?
Elizabeth Bishop once wrote in a letter that “undoubtedly gender does play an important part in the making of any art, but art is art and to separate writings, paintings, musical compositions, etc., into two sexes is to emphasize values in them that are not art.”