We read poems on printed white sheets in english
Cover them with highlights
And words like freedom
Are covered in pink.
And a hundred years ago
It’s not the slashes through the timeline,
Not the practiced cursive
Spelling out names
That we must all know.
It’s the blank in between
Comments
Despite everything I just wrote in my last comment to you, on your fireworks/phone photo drawing... this is still a spectacular picture!
Thanks! I know, they are a bit of a contradiction.
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