Primitives by Brant Goodman

"January Twenty-Fourteen;
that's the first time I'd ever seen her.
I stayed up all night just to hear her name
when the morning arrived, cold and tame,
she was gone."

I wrote this material in pursuit of the fleeting inspiration that so often dazzles a young artist. Consider them the daydream explorations of a smug college dropout. This exhibit of hobby expressions seems to yearn for a deeper communication that I would not reach until many years later.

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