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❣️

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Some more art practice that I liked. featuring OG!NYY

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How Lucky We Are That You Can't Sell a Poem

by Gregory Orr

How lucky we are That you can’t sell A poem, that it has No value. Might As well Give it away.

That poem you love, That saved your life, Wasn’t it given to you?

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Rabbits and triangles🐇

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It sucks to be alone

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slip up

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I wanted the past to go away, I wanted to leave it, like another country; I wanted my life to close, and open like a hinge, like a wing, like the part of the song where it falls down over the rocks: an explosion, a discovery; I wanted to hurry into the work of my life; I wanted to know, whoever I was, I was alive for a little while.

Mary Oliver, "Dogfish" in New and Selected Poems

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Kind of photo redraw

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Artifacts

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I Know

by Joseph Payne Brennan

It is always snowing in my deepest being, a snow of sleep, a snow unending.

When I see the blur of snow falling over distant pines, I feel a subtle peace, a reassurance.

When I watch it blowing over the stubble, over the stalks, a kind of serenity fills me.

My friends have warned: the death wish is symbolized by snow. I know. I know.

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the reunion

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First time animating and it’s finally finished 🙏

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circus

twitter/ insta/bluesky/ store