Increase
faith in our process over fear of our failure.
Of
all starving artists,
I
was most content to be
poor,
to own nothing in this world,
save
the art stacked against the walls,
the
life-sized paintings of Bohemian women.
My
artist’s loft held uncertain
ruminations
of pen and page,
the
scripts of playwright, actor, and director.
I
watched the luminaries
parade
by with their advice
beneath
my window; they were promising
and
exacted their arts and sciences
as
a woman compels her child
to
perform with finesse, with
a
futuristic style that promised
wearing
a top hat, a cape, and procuring a rabbit.
Emily Isaacson
Emily Isaacson
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