I like to pretend that my art has nothing to do with me.
Roy Lichtenstein
“So, young woman, the way forward is sometimes the way back…”
(via kathleenturneroverdrive)
…The light settles on the forest floor wafting
like leaves into pools of ochre and new green.
Mary Ann and I, my father-in-law Jerry —
we’re hunting for mushrooms.
Vince Gotera, first appeared in the 1989
Literary Supplement of Arts Indiana.
In Flanders Fields
by John McCrae, May 1915
“In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.”
Late Mad Hatter.
