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Friday, July 23, 2010

The warp and The weft

The warp

warped Yorkshire
when it rained.
Wet sheep.
My dad,
painting in oil
drained the ground
of greens and blues.
I drew
with a common
black pencil
in front of him
I left for London.

The weft

wove me close to one
man twice.
We took off.
Argentina,
staring through the eyes
of an angora
goat, handed me
colored yarn,
a teacher.
In wool
I was told
to paint Yorkshire.



I had the pleasure of composing this poem for Karen. From one artist to another. Enjoy!

3 comments:

  1. Thanks again Lizzie... this was a wonderful birthday present too!!!! Ummm im interested in your little book of poetry for the confused and amused:) will check it out on etsy....
    the weaver....

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