“Why paint?”

I do it for the money.

Everything is found.

Painting is the glove you wear to touch a wound.

Solvent and scraper; linseed stand oil, turpentine.

What’s erased is still felt.

The scrape of blood.

I don’t know what I want.

ξ

Sylee Gore is a poet and artist. https://syleegore.com/works