April 14th, 2003 - 11:26 a.m.

Sculptress.

With tactile limberness, sculpting. Out of formidable air and askless abandon.

A sculpture that begins, seemingly sans artful function, in the mouth, along the palate, glided across tongue.

Begins to resemble a recognizable form, takes shape off the cupboard shelf and dusts it off.

The texture of magnolia petal.

Aided by hand and flicker of wrist.

Right now, at this moment, of turbulence and peace, is for no other.

N.

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