Hopper? If not, god, the solidity of that light is very Hopperesque. I'm a fool for Hopper. I'd sell my soul to own one. Or to be in one. I'd love to be that woman in that Hopper painting standing naked in that wedge of light.
Listen, I looked at that painting and wrote this almost instantly. I don't have anything to give you for your birthday except my friendship. And this poem:
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Hopper? If not, god, the solidity of that light is very Hopperesque. I'm a fool for Hopper. I'd sell my soul to own one. Or to be in one. I'd love to be that woman in that Hopper painting standing naked in that wedge of light.
Listen, I looked at that painting and wrote this almost instantly. I don't have anything to give you for your birthday except my friendship. And this poem:
Invitation
A door thrown
wide open. Wider
than open. A wedge
of light, yellow
and solid. An edge
where the house ends
and air and ocean
begin. Inviting.
So, go. Walk
into that wall
of gold. Step
over that threshold
and fall
off that edge. You are
Icarus now. You are
wings, spread.
that was perfect and the best present. Well that and sushi. Thank you chicka beana.
Hey, Happy Birthday...
Happy happy birthday -- may this be a year filled with light.
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