SALLY FORTH
I have such roving hands and eyes as these that scan
the landscape : a frost of snow, a lightness of the now
cold air, the reason for the shade and dark. I am a painter
of many moments, and change all things. My hands
stretch forth, for magic alone. Look forth, then, to see
how wise and enigmatic are my serifs and scribbles -
those tensioned lines which run along the page. I care
not for man and all those foibles. Nothing rests more in
my mind than these gloved hands within your framework,
and I can move the edgings to where I wish, and will. The
magic of this artful world is in the containing of all emotion,
and it is balanced within the spheres of reason and good.
I outline the traces of grace, and heavier line of love and
warmth, around the newer forms of your growing figure.
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