Flash Autobiography

Dolls creep me out the way clowns creep others out.

As a child I was given shelf dolls 

with authentic nuns' habits and stoic faces.

And speaking of distaste I am not big on mythology either, despite being an English major.

Right now I am in the gallery across from the exhibition of dolls in costumes, 

and coping with issues to do with sharpness versus blur. 

A slur against people visually compromised let's say. What lands on the canvas prompts my thought of breaking ranks with intuition all my own. Yes, prone to whimsy. And intonation.  

Frit slopes down calling to mind the slow coat of dimension unclear as Midwestern drear still lodged within my soul.