those things that own you
erica lewis <text>
mark stephen finein <images>





lrl3 home



and sometimes you are the door

being brilliant is not enough you’ve got to have something else
you’ve got to have a moral center out of which it all radiates


and suppose you and i in briefness
you absorb such shape as what addendum
as you afterthought as you before
you immediately

to hum complete erase from time to time
the magnifying will set everything on fire


the moment suspended is part and perceived and you are wrapped up and say this is hard or disappointed you say this is to come clean as come clean as often but to touch your lip
something slips to seek the source is never literal even as an end unto itself


bodies are not colorless substances relapsing in a mirror particles whose gold is found in gravel and soon there will be candles and choices and synonyms
and does such sand brightness mean i am to sculpt
you find yourself asking how you would behave in such circumstances
how the glass will repay the observer


and what makes you so good is that you have questions about your life

everyone needs aesthetic phantoms in order to exist


to remain true to oneself while being open the way it feels to unfold like a dream
the dust and mud and heat are in your bones and it is here where you will be buried

where the painting ends shortly after i paint myself as a gap i paint myself as the gap in nostalgia i am at the door all of the time