Buried drawings and collected writings.. Lili Grace Ward

 Buried drawings and collected writing. Lili Grace Ward

#1

this creek is trying to swallow me whole and I hope it succeeds

otherwise I fall down the bog to settle for my muddy fortune

I deserve consumption by crystal clear waters.

                                                       Coloured pencil, pen and flower on paper, Lili Ward

#2

It seems like something I want to do

or

   at least something I should want to do.

I should want to wade knee deep in muddy puddles, watching dozen udders face a silky tunic of soil.

In my pocket: 

         Ten thousand emerald eggs, I want to try to wait for them to grow.

First, 

Fill my socks with gravel from the path,

then put another pair of socks over the first,

put on my sneakers and tie them tight,

learn to walk on tiny stones.

After three weeks replace the left sock and put in three large stones,

and in the right sock, a handful of soil and seeds of your choice.

Learn to walk with almost no pressure on the left foot.

After a month, introduce both feet over lunch,

watch the left foot grow to hate the right, watch it become jealous, watch it hatch ten thousand eggs of emerald hatred and put those eggs in your pocket.

Wash both feet and hands and the three pairs of socks,

sell the sneakers and the laces, 

plant the sweaty seeds

and throw the three stones into a river or small body of water nearby.

Repeat this process biannually to distract yourself from figuring out whether this is something you want or just seems like something you should want.

                                  Wire, rope, wood, leaf, Lili Ward

                                  Coloured pencil on paper, Lili Ward

Coloured pen, leaf, Lili Ward

#3

I want to spread myself thin over the crossroads

Knees and elbows thaw to oil

I am lathered in the corners of sheds

Trailing the dust

Dripping off noses

Suds of me bubble and foam

I have coated every shack and bolt and peg and cloth

They wear me with pride

Shine golden and live unscathed with me

But instead I look for;

Sweet

Or soon

Or some

Or little

Relief

As the sour curdles my stomach,

But I don’t worry because I don't plan to stay very long at all,

I won’t let gravel paths make a mould for my feet, too comfortable

Soon.....

I will melt

I am a liquid that finds paths in the dirt that were never there.

Buried Drawings, Coloured pen on paper, Lili Ward

#4

In matters of brushing feet I am far more undignified, In matters of fondling and frolicking I fiddle and fail, Regarding the heat of the kitchen I have soft boiled sincerity.

First order of business relates to an importance of sleep in expectance to wake and to the fumble in between the two.

and the warmth in the tunnel, well I avoided the whole thing all together and stuck to the gutters I knew best, they tickled my buttoned boots. In matters of the heart I am brushing feet, In the fondling of dignity I fail to fiddle the knobs of the kitchen, When it’s just heating up I hard boil my fumbling warmth and I’ve accidentally cooked my boots Oh goodness! Bugger In matters of words I mostly use them And then once more circling back to a resting expectancy, it is better For you to rest than expect anything of me,

Rest a while.

Pen and flower on paper, Lili Ward

I acknowledge that the land on which I made onsite works is that of the Wurundjeri- willam people and that sovereignty was never seeded.

Regards Lili