but I cannot draw

I draw conclusions right and wrong

My judgments can be poor.

I draw a bath. I draw curtains

But I cannot draw.

I draw in air. I draw blood

When the scab’s knocked off my sore.

I draw upon my inner strength

Yet I cannot draw.

Sometimes I draw a long bow

When restraint goes out the door.

I draw laughter and anger too

And sometimes the short straw.

I would love to be a Picasso.

My drawings all adored.

But as it is I am me

And alas I cannot draw.

I Like Graphic Novels

I like graphic novels.

I always have.

I like the illustrations.

It’s the little kid in me.

I always wanted to be an illustrator

but I never got past

little stick men, sorry, people.

I like that they can tell a novel-size story

in 64 pages or less

when some writers – I am thinking Pasolini here —

can push it up to 900 pages.

Come on!! as Lleyton Hewitt would say.

I have my little list of favourites:

‘Wilson’ by Daniel Clowes and ‘A Taste of Chlorine’

by that French author

and ‘Maus’, of course, the classic by Art Spiegel.

I remember the excitement when I purchased

‘The Dark Knight Returns’ by Frank Miller when it first came out.

It was like when I bought the just released “Revolver’ by the Beatles

and ran down the ramp of the Adelaide Railway Station to catch

the train home so I could play it on the turntable

only to come a cropper at the end.

It was that kind of excitement.

When in doubt, choose a graphic novel, I say.