Margaret Ann Withers :: Curious Landscapes

late at night in the motel room of God
Fashe paint, acrylic gouache, ink on linen

One late night, God sat in a motel room, tv station off the air and static turned low. This is a test. God worried a thread on the armrest and wondered about feeling this brittle loneliness. Thoughts on their own produce nothing, but these were God's thoughts, and as God sat there a branch broke through the brown shag carpet. God was unaware of the branch, so mesmerized by the tv static and deep in thought. The branch continued to grow and threw off colors and light, and then from the ceiling a hole opened and houses and telephone poles dropped into a giant hopper-God's hopper of a passing thought. And from this hopper a spigot turned on and out came humanity, which tumbled through the light and dropped into the ocean. The shiny grumble finally caught God's attention who at last looked up- now aware. Giving the armrest thread a final tug, God scratched an itchy knee, and mumbled, "Damn, I should've just gone to bed."
Tumbling Houses