Wednesday, February 03, 2010

Bad News

I open my evening paper
and a throng rises up
scything blindly through the fields.

For so many nights, I courted the sleep
that only ever comes in fits and starts.
Now, blood thuds against my temples
but it's the glint of the blades
that blinds me
until morning crawls in
to pull the darkness off.


Tim Buck said...

I "enjoyed" the image of a leisured decadence contrasted with, perhaps, sweating rice harvesters in some godforsaken Indian province. And the twinge of circumstantial guilt rising up with the heavy morning.

I think the painting expresses a quality of social and self disgust. And its shocky lines and psychotic colors suggest the horror of the situation.

Cheryl and Janet Snell said...

Hi Tim! I got the idea for this when I was sick awhile back and had time to read the newspaper more thoroughly than usual. Bummer!
Hope you're feeling better after your own bug last week.