
Art is anything:
cut up old cardboard boxes,
be the creator.

Art is anything:
cut up old cardboard boxes,
be the creator.

Sunset’s all a blur,
the heavens are falling through:
sharp turns on a plane.

Walkers embrace life,
leaning into the unknown—
a gravelly path.

All the world’s a stage:
parks, rivers, corporations;
you and I, workers.