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Jane Thissen: Writing

Asylum in art


what of the memories

blue fog we wedge away

resuscitate our sanity

calm magenta dreams

false innocence


battle the past

always our present

no holiday meals

no celebration, nostalgia

simply purple dread


what of the chronicles

we can’t recall

on purpose

lightning flashes a doctor

would dredge up


if we remember them

would we be artists

still brush orange, ink passion

or succumb to

asylum of bitter judgment


art is the process

of remembering and


of being someone else

being the same