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Studio MAG
Two nights I spent
Sleeping, nestled against
My art history text
And a paint-splattered
Blanket borrowed from
A half-finished still life.
I sat two nights
Atop a white-washed stool
Almost weeping when I saw
The sunset (I washed my
Palette, polluting
The sky with soft paint-clouds).
Mornings, in awe,
I awoke to the light
Of clean brushes waiting -
Haloed energy,
Studio sunrise -
A new idea streams through open curtains.
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