Tuesday, October 06, 2009


6 October 2009

I picked four canvases,
though quantity has never been an object--
I always fill the empty spaces. I didn’t realize
there were two such, untouched, against a wall
at home, hiding behind neglected work
like the words I’ve tried to write of late.
I’ve waited too long, spoken too little--
there’s a perfect whiteness cluttering my mind.
I can’t find the component shards of possibility
until I’ve brought a new one home.

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George MacDonald

"Home is ever so far away in the palm of your hand, and how to get there it is of no use to tell you. But you will get there; you must get there; you have to get there. Everybody who is not at home, has to go home."

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