Spring Break Collage Fest

As I make a collage, I begin to think about time. A collage contains all tenses: past, present, future, and all the variations (think: If it were possible, I would someday have regretted not having met you). The way I try to figure out which piece of paper gets glued down first, next, next. I regret occasionally that something new should be placed beneath the edge of something already there. With a potential metaphor like that, you see why I think of these as a form of poetry.

As I make a collage, I think about time. A collage contains all tenses: past, present, future, and all the variations (think: Someday I may regret remembering not having met you). I look through a tray of torn scraps, looking for just the right one to inspire or continue the work-in-progress. I tear little squares of paper into smaller squares. I wonder how much paint to add at the end.

The end is the beginning.

And then the collage exists, where a few moment before there had been no collage. And yet, all I did was assemble bits and pieces of things that were in the vicinity. And discard other bits, other pieces.

Another collage waits its turn.