Carmen ButcherThe Painterfor Sue Butcher But twice hard on her back men ripped through yawning darkness where white canvas grew twice heads pointed sharp at the curved world where lovely deep grooves in everything and the close smell of graphite and tears were elbows and smiling heels erasing old fish while oceans watched flowers bloom till crawled walked jumped run cycled flown loved like God out of the changelessness of beauty into moving hues she was drawn like this brush in her hand Carmen Butcher writes: I have a Ph.D. but don't hold it against me. I grew up near Atlanta and studied at The University of Georgia. I was a Fulbright Scholar in London ten years ago studying Anglo-Saxon. Now I'm a stay-at-home mother in Northern California. I chase my daughter, play with my husband, edit books, and write (revise) poetry and hate to cook. Home | Editor's Desk | Poetry | Prose | Guidelines | Email | Links |