Hold someone’s hand
Feel the comforting soul within it
Know you are not alone.
Life is a losing game.
We cannot dominate.
Hemmed in by death
Battling the inevitable
It helps
To have another living thing beside you
A reminder
That you’re not the only one
Holding fast
To this tenuous state.
A little tribute to The Addams Family. I penciled first and everything, this is as good as I get.
I have trouble with my new ink. It’s quick drying and glossy and waterproof and I can erase over it, but it gums up my pen, and it’s so DRIPPY. I only dripped on this drawing twice, which led to some awkward corrections but is a great improvement. My previous drawing was a total drippy mess, so I’m just happy I’m getting a better handle on the stuff.
I drew this during a meeting. My arm looks the same as ever but my perception of it seems to have changed.
All I wanna do is drink a gallon of water and go to bed. Ghhhghhhhhh… happy Friday.
your hand
fragile
replete with vitality
laced with veins and arteries
padded with springy muscle
elegant bones the support trusses
you own this hand
it will fold whichever way you dream
each digit an extension of your unconscious
this hand can beckon, halt, support, negate
lose balance and it steadies you
cry and it wipes your tears away
All you artists,
let your hands give something form
and watch them express
what you never knew was in you.
All you workers,
allow the tasks to fall into place
marvel at what
your hands have wrought.
All you parents
brush hair, wash faces
prepare dinner
caress the infant
whose first unconscious expression of love
is the grasping of your fingers
in his warm little hand.
We are alive
how wondrous we are
with such capacities.
we wreck, we pet.
We let our hands lead us
these finite tools
a hand’s breadth
a finger’s length
flushed with redness, with vigor
Are we really
made of such things?
Are we really made by them?
