p. 1
I spent my early years on the planet Mars, where it never rained
pp. 2-3
And a cold wind raked the dry river beds.
We lived among mountains that heaved and trembled
pp. 4-5
And flung stones into the clear pink sky
Where the native bird-folk flocked and chattered.
pp. 6-7
Later, when we moved to Kansas City, it was raining.
The wet streets were full of people driving cars.
p. 8
What was this place? I longed for home.
Text and illustrations. An account of memory of and longing for a particular place. Dark (white text on black fabric, with a black cover) because of the depth of memory and the pain of longing.
p. 1
I spent my early years on the planet Mars, where it never rained
pp. 2-3
And a cold wind raked the dry river beds.
We lived among mountains that heaved and trembled
pp. 4-5
And flung stones into the clear pink sky
Where the native bird-folk flocked and chattered.
pp. 6-7
Later, when we moved to Kansas City, it was raining.
The wet streets were full of people driving cars.
p. 8
What was this place? I longed for home.
Second Black Book, 2009
13.5 x 31 inches open.
Fabric, lace, thread, silk-screen ink, latex paint, buttons, industrial felt, fusible adhesive, Beva.
