On a cool spring day I poured fabric over rocks
2023 . Ramie, wool, chestnut.
Words without meaning.
Action without perception.
Where is purpose?
Does it arrive with intent, hand in hand?
Can I find it in the land?
Giving. Growing.
Loving. Nurturing.
Foreign agendas. Seemingly action without
Purpose. But perhaps collective
Purpose rather than self.
Foreign.
Water shapes the stone.
Smooths its edges.
Maybe it is bold of me to try and understand.
Water flows in me, on me, through me.
Smooths my edges.
I am soft, the way I’m meant to be.
Where is purpose?
Where feelings are conveyed,
Where words are lost,
Where threads overlap,
Where entities do not touch,
Meaning is found in trust.
