two more drawings

Yellow Flowers

doubles

ultimate goal: to get poem onto canvas and canvas onto dilapidated graffiti-stained walls.

the poem: The Flowers

A woman brought me flowers and told me to treat them as if they were her.
Orange-yellow flaming flowers, I parted her lips.
She was not lonely, she said. She had baseball…students…coworkers…
Her legs ran down my bed like green stalks and shivered at my touch.
I am the wind, I whispered in her ear. And she replied curiously,
I will never drink the poison.

This is the result of an exercise my tutor gave me; draw something without looking at your paper. My new favorite thing to do in Parisian cafes.   : )