alice in her party dress

18 03 2007

i’m going to let cynthia tell as much of this tale as there is to tell, because i don’t even know her, and i don’t think she knows (although it’s eerie how this appeared the day the kettle tipped without a warning). but this is how it is when only alice knows your world is paper houses, how you’re scalded by what steams & how kind she looks while everything you knew is washed away.
by the way, this woman is (clearly) an artistic genius, outside of being terrifyingly isaac-painting-the-future-on-heroin about the wonderland affair, & i wrote the poem before i’d seen the image.




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