I thought art was a verb, rather than a noun. - Yoko Ono

spring passes
and one remembers one's innocence
summer passes
and one remembers one's exuberance
autumn passes
and one remembers one's reverence
winter passes
and one remembers one's perseverance
there is a season that never passes and that is the season of glass — Season of Glass, 1981

We're all water from different rivers,
That's why it's so easy to meet,
We're all water in this vast, vast ocean,
Someday we'll evaporate together.

PAINTING FOR THE BURIAL

On the night of the full moon, place a canvas in the garden from 1 a.m. till dawn.
When the canvas is dyed thoroughly in rose with the morning light, dismember or fold it and bury.

The ways of burial:

1) Bury it in the garden and place a marker with a number on it.
2) Sell it to the rag man.
3) )Throw it in the garbage.

1961 summer