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Photography: Color on Canvas.
Flowers for Anne Sexton's Grave
The time has come for me to confess. I am not the orthodontist I have heretofore pretended to be. No. Despite the many teeth I have straightened and dislodged, despite the gaping pieholes in which I have gazed and dwelt I am not that guy. No. In fact, I am a rather profound Poet. That's right folks, I scribe and collate vast sheets of top shelf premium grade Poems. I mean, I've got a million of them kids. It's sick. You'd be flabbergasted and flummoxed should you happen upon my mellifluous verses. Bewitched, bedazzled and bewildered, that's what your ass would be. Anyway, I couldn't pretend anymore. I just can't keep up the white smock and bloody spit sink charade. It's not fair to my ekphrastic ecstacies nor your kids' choppers for me to be daydreaming about words that rhyme with ardour while adjusting Junior's braces. I'll miss the money but I'll learn to barter.
10x14" Giclee print on stretched, UV coated canvas.
Artist featured by Saatchi Art in a collection