Here is another artist book I made back in the spring – it’s called The telephone, sir. I’ve put the images first and written out the text afterwards. That happens to be the order in which I made the book, by the way – I created the images and then wrote text to fit it.
The telephone, sir
At home. The message. The deep and endless sky.
We listen for it.
We doubt. We hope.
The house. The bills. The mailbox. The better neighborhood.
The paycheck and the long commute to work.
The days of walking on tired feet.
The green so green summer grass remembered
by wet brown days of early spring.
Flower stalks from
last year not yet memories nor yet
yielding to new versions of
We meet on the dark street tired faces heavy winter coats
and yet there is the sun to come
we hope for it
we doubt it
we hope for it.