The beginning suggests something,
The suggestion becomes a silhouette,
A silhouette, caught on canvas,
By hand is made real.
A line starts from fingers,
Spends their energy, then, the inner
Wire grows to a visible
Meaning. Lose dreams
Are coming together.
Onto the sofa made of air
You’ve laid the memory of my figure.
Like Brancusi probably did
With La Muse Endormie –
Immediately and naively.
Not all starts on the easel,
But where the artist hears…
the beginnings, the beginnings.