Thursday, November 6, 2014

William Bain

Drawing glass

Is it my fault that the florist put
this broad leaf in the bouquet
foreshortened now in the rectangular
vase on the dining room table.
The faucet—a clock.
Strict contraband—


rustling in the cattails—then …
a call                sweet               melodious
but what bird               what call
there in the green of the reed
slightly smaller than a sparrow
about the same color—
quickly concealing in the leaf

color study

stretched over the graphite to
mix at midnight the
time will come to commit to another support
waiting retraces to broaden
what quill brush hand drops
and what’s not recalled

© William Bain


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