Thick Black shadows cut into the painting space, it calls to me
across the yard to escape the white heat of morning, 8:30 am,
already too much, slows me down, slugs me up, melts my focus.
Thick black shadows cut the streets, call to camera, companion
vibrating in my hand, hungry eye, wants to dance.
There’s the start, the ‘best foot forward’, listening through
it’s one good eye, soft cruising streets, crossing to the
shadow side, walk slow, talk low, slip under the hot wire,
inhabit the molecules in the cool air under the bottom rung,
make the first marks down there, don’t look for purpose, reason
or end result, move slow, talk low & let the day make the drawing.