The Problem of Hands
And how to fill them is the problem of cigarettes and paint. First time I felt my undoing was in front of a painting—Sam Francis, I believe. Oh, his bloomed out, Xanax-ed California. I liked the word guard, but you know we made each other nervous, standing too close for everyone concerned. All art being a form of violence as a peony is violence. Here you come with your open hands.