the artist bows

carved of dreams, a soft mist rising from warm skin,
thin membrane to your soul. I am torn in two by you,
for the artist bows but the man stands and contemplates
if he would have the couer rage to cage Aphrodite,
were it to her will, and fill her with his fantasies,
breeze to tempest, prayer to penetration to express
the roar of passions invoke and provoked by you,
while all the while the artist speaks only his mind,
and not the hunger of his blood to possess you.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

I have noted that, in my status as ronin, I have stopped expressing who is inspiring specific works. This shows a lack of openness, and is not what I wish to be about, so I am changing this and will again be explicit in my inspirations. This first one under the new regime of boldness is of my dear friend and peer Mariya Andriychuk, whose works have been featured here previously. She is not only a great photographer, but her nude self-portraits are highly...interesting to me on the more feral levels of my existence. I have no illusions of ever being her lover, but that does not mean I am in a coma.