short spun nightgowns and feathers in my hair

by Rachel Lynch in

We’re more distant in the red, more ugly.

I don’t know, but I’ve been told it’s a fear:

There are things more important than money.

It’s a little like watching paint not dry

or like a bomb that didn’t go off in here.

We’re more boring in the dark, less ugly.

We wach the moon get up on its gurney.

We try to pretend it’s a chandelier.

There are things less important than money.

Come dawn, we’re the Polaroid of mercy,

our stomachs left unpuckered by our spears.

Reinvented by sleep, we’re still ugly.

Stapled to the promise of the daily

rage to purchase, our cause is close to clear.

There are things less important than money.

Our heads are talking over us, honey,

and there was never not a fiscal year.

We’re timeless in the red, beyond ugly,

There are things less important than money.

— Graham Foust

I’ve been spending time with good friends and my sketchbook. This morning I was woken up one of my girls and she sat with me as I finished my pattern. Later, I went shopping and I bought some lovely little nightgowns. I was in need of new lush garments.

My favorite nights are those ones where I can be alone, sip on somthing in a little baby froc and sketch and paint to my hearts desire.