The Image, Marred

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THE IMAGE, MARRED


No, the image had been more than 

marred—mangled, we might even 


say. Nonetheless the image was 

and duly is, albeit it now in pieces 


strewn around the room. Still, it’s 

such an image’s continuance, despite


the altered circumstance, that thus

inclines the artist to attend just such


a mess as ours. With bloody hands

he gathers in the shards, intent


to re-create the image as he'd once

intended it, an image far beyond


our slim criteria for excellence. 

If not for the first time, once


again, and even better than before. 

The first was love. The second, more.


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