St. Mard
  • St. Mard

  • Mard you are the saint of 2:54 p.m.
    on any Tuesday
    Wednesday or Thursday. We feel good in leaves.
    In being left behind to bear other
    centuries. In the middle of my arm
    there is a window where I can
    see you ingesting your biosphere. There is no
    pollution. No other self but right now.
    The mediocrity of employment delivers its
    packages outside the blinds.
    I believed you when you said,
    "Nothing done is nothing done."

  • 4" x 6"
  • Oil pastel and color pencil on paper
  • 2007