The Critic

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The Critic

She sits in the window
blocking me
from the world

bouncing crumbled
half-finished art
off my head.

Taunting,
“draw, draw, draw,
and still, alien eyes
and a nose that blows
stale air.”

I say to her,
“you’re quite pale today,
go now,
and play in the sun.”

art and words

copyright Susan Stone 2018

 

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Happy Hour with strangers

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Happy Hour

Old friends are strangers

drinking Bacardi and coke

to a slow ticking clock.

copyright Susan Stone 2018

Free Sample

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after I accept your tiny
packet of potion,
you’ll pull me in your
den of dabs
with sights set
on slathering
away
my well-earned
wrinkles —in exchange
for my hard-earned
dollars.

copyright Susan Stone 2018

The Pain of Making Art

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It’s All Connected

tingles and throbs
travel fingers to hand
up an achy arm
down a hot shoulder
to a kink in the neck
attached to a forward
tilted head
facing
what the hand
is making.

Susan Stone copyright 2018

Model Dog

Norwich Terrier Teacher

She asked

if I’m WILD from

props and poses

and suit and specs,

arf-arf

SPOT me a TREAT,

woof-woof

I’ll STAY and PLAY,

fwip -fwip, wag, wag,

bow-wow, woof- woof,

you do DIG dogs

don’t SPEAK?

Copyright Susan Stone 2018