INFANT SORROW

 

My mother groaned, my father wept:

Into the dangerous world I leapt,

Helpless, naked, piping loud,

Like a fiend hid in a cloud.

Struggling in my father’s hands,

Striving against my swaddling bands,

Bound and weary, I thought best

To sulk upon my mother’s breast.

 

— William Blake, Songs of Experience

BOOK OF EXPERIENCE

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The Book of Experience (page 01), 2009

oil, collage on paper

13.5 x 9.5 in.