I’m folding a gray blanket on a gray couch, looking out the window at the gray sky and its impenetrable reflection on the river. It’s 2023 and I feel somewhat alive.

Sometimes I wonder why my paintings are so vibrant.

Sometimes I wonder why they’re so silent.

Today I wonder why I wonder at all.

~

I’m overwhelmed with what I see and what I want to say,

what I want to touch,

and what I want to play.

I hope this feeling will last ALL DAY

TO DAY

IS GRAY

STAY

AWAY STAY

AWAY

STAY AWAY

ALL

DAY

ITS TOO

GRAY

FOR ANYTHING ELSE

TO SAY

~

I walked outside this morning to find a dead rabbit in front of the house.

I thought about picking it up and bringing it inside, cleaning it up, and burying it/ throwing it in the river/

holding it and whispering to it its future…

how a hawk will be here soon to take it away, fly it high up in the trees to a height its never been, feed its flesh to its babies so the only thing that’s left are its bones, bones that will fall from the tops of the trees down onto the hill where they’ll roll rapidly down in due time and make a subtle but nonetheless meaningful splash into the calm of the river where they’ll finish their days underneath the black blanket of reflection and decompose with the turbulence of the current.

Back inside I went to marvel more at the color gray and pray to understand its purpose one day.

Time. Time. Time. Time. Time, rolled on. and the hawk paid my friend a visit behind my back.

This is a story I knew would come true.

I’m counting down the days till I can tell it to you.