OPENINGS by Tom Corrado

The impastos and gouaches in the small gallery
on the third floor, the long-limbed bronzes
crowding the poorly-lit hallways, the after-hour
departures rehung as an homage to the lives
of the long coats and wide-brimmed hats
that filled the spaces between the shows
and now daily wait for the commuter train
and the safety of the suburbs, are not unlike
the visitors who drift through, stopping
occasionally for a closer look at the work
of the brush or painting knife, the blending
of color, the play of light and dark, scribbling
their lives, page after page, revision upon revision,
against the collage of trees in the courtyard
with their empty limbs moving to the rhythm
of the wind amid the color fields of the seasons
and their unmet promises, their table settings,
their half-filled water glasses.

Welcome to our blog, guys. It is still under construction, but I wanted you to get a glimpse of it. I haven't quite worked the kinks out. I love this blog and want to make additions to it with pictures and comments from you.
Be sure to go all the way to the bottom.
Lily Alys