FILL BRA CUPS WITH STUFFING

A plowed line that is miles wide and long. I draw it from the hotel. The wife is barren. Toothpaste. I fill bra cup with stuffing. Another girl, dirty. Wagons of men from the field. A two way road. Cut line again. Man with ophthalmologist. More greenhouses from side of house. Train car to concentration camp. I watch this from railroad station platform Painters paint locomotors’ upper level. I am in a housecoat that my brother gives me. It is too tight to get off. Green center of strip alongside bare side strip. Tractor with driver. I offer a gun for a bus token. My other brother is angry with me because I did not wash his dirty socks. I am on toilet.

The line up of people is like an Egyptian hieroglyphics, where all the figures are in profile. I wonder why. I can not image them having so much ability artistically that they are unable to project something looking forward or maybe it is that we do not dare look at something straight forward that everything is in profile. In this painting, no one is looking straight at me.

Eye glasses look like the bra.

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