Copper’s a material I’ve always enjoyed for its ease and grace; it lets itself bend and age, wearing what it endures and absorbing time in the form of dings, dents, and patinas. It’ll carry marks of salmon pink that turn to dark brown and eventually, a spectrum of green.
won’t you celebrate with me what i have shaped into a kind of life? i had no model. born in babylon both nonwhite and woman what did i see to be except myself? i made it up here on this bridge between starshine and clay, my one hand holding tight my other hand; come celebrate with me that everyday something has tried to kill me and has failed.