Rip me open...
even as I feverishly stitch up
what has come undone.
Rip me open...
there...
at the hem of this threadbare veil.
Rip me open...
along the softened edges of my soul
that cannot hide from the
scared corners of my heart.
"If we can't dance, then I'm not coming to your revolution."
-Emma Goldman
Anarchist, 1869 - 1940
Collage - created Monday, 1.18.10. The little girl is my grandma and I am in love with this photo of her. Years ago, I made a collage seen in this previous post. When I was growing up my Grammie use to sing the saddest, heartbreaking folk songs to me right before bed. Treasured memories! My favorite song: Wreck of Old No. 9. This is the closest rendition that I could find to the way I heard it growing up. (HERE) I love when this guy cracks a smile.
well that's all i need to 'sub' that guy...
ReplyDelete'boom...done!'
thanks for sharing....
....of course the picture is lovely....
I love this collage, the colors, the filminess (can't think of a better word).
ReplyDeleteYour words are beautiful and wrenching. Did you write them to go with the collage?
That song is great too.
Thanks to you both!
ReplyDeleteSusan - the words are separate from the collage, but I thought they paired nicely.
i love her mouth and her eyes, the way they carry such wonder and wondering all at once. so beautiful collage!!! thanks jenny stevning. steven
ReplyDelete