the first exchange

Here the earth thrums
blood dark deafening
its own ears helpless
against the static noise

Hope lies prostrate
amid the sand and insects
beneath the body’s frail need
searching for a place to bury
doubt and resist even as hands
close on mudflat longing
salt and sweat and repose

Here in the cold
hollow of an empty day
a quiet unraveling
where my heart unfurls

As you know, I'm involved in an artist/writer exchange in which we each create work in direct response to the other's. I've decided to document the process. The above work is my response to this piece by artist M.E. I apologize for the slant of this photo, but I wanted to capture the texture of the paint. Both the visual and written work is intended to remain in an unfinished state, changing with each exchange (either building off the prior piece, or inspiring a new piece) until the project concludes. Again, we know nothing about each other, save for the work. I'll include updates as the project progresses, including information about the gallery showing, once that information finally materializes.