Was there ever an Eden
of wildflowers and stone fruit? Ever an Adam
of dusted sinews made? A naked pair entwined,
Ever a dance of sun-delight?
That holy roundness we suckled without shame–
Was a paradisic moon ever warm?
Was’t ever complete– ere a Lilith set out at eve,
Drunk of clean air, lush quiet green—
Mourning the fall of trees, the rise of fences,
to roam the rough red sands of time?
Whence came the first of flies and maggots?
That learned of life from bloody flesh.
Emily Rudofsky: “I am not a person who believes that an artist should be forced to choose a single medium to express themself. I think it is all the more likely that a medium finds the artist at the correct time, place. As a person who often uses words to tell stories or impress upon certain symbols and feelings I consider to be either universal or entirely alienating, I have always enjoyed being able to create visual art. I am at heart, a mixed-media poet.”