September 23, 2020. 4:27 AM. Lake Harding, Georgia. 48x36in.
Original available
Prints upon request
48x36in.
Hardware and tear for the software toggle tickler, interface agitator developing always in the dark room of our unconscious mind's field guide for mummies: How to Die for Dummies.
Passive interference calls like missed facetimes
facemasks
yellowed flags so personally foul. Such is the evolution of birds.
Temperate raptors. Neighborhood geese still abusing all remaining power, pecking core memories into the children.
Lost privileges, I suppose. The sacrifice of pedals, bi-which we wish to fly, rounding harder up the hill hoping to gain wings yet only gaining perspective whether realized or not.
Vitruvian DoDo ventures, seeming inventors, shoeing flys that are "distracting" from work as if distraction a good excuse.
duck duck duck goose.
L.R. Bennett
The Temperament of Table Salt
Your hands sweep with Grace.
Grace you show me and sometimes knots.
Time, help me remember. That the magic I help make
Give me a glimpse of that feeling you take.
Swing low
and let my feet skim the water
swing low
let me drown.
Meet me at the bottom
I'll see you in the silt.
So we can have a toast.
To the timekeeper Grim Reaper, Sultan of Slime.
Dear, Father Time.
Here's to the lonely.
Here's to the blind.
Here's to the families.
Who sleep under flies.
Here's to the ashes.
Carbonate pies.
The passing of masses.
Here's to the time.
L.R. Bennett
