Poetry-schmoetry
Perhaps I should slice a vein, let it
pour red and sticky sweet onto the carpet,
allow it to puddle and darken.
We can sit in our blue upholstered chairs
by the window, watch sluggish rivulets
cascading down. But an artery, you suggest,
would spark an instant Jackson Pollack—
sprayed toward the walls, Pointillism enjoys
an immediate revival preview. “So, what
is art to you, dear?” you inquire. “An opportunity
to discover it within ourselves,” I reply,
spreading a crimson Matise along the baseboard
Perhaps I should slice a vein, let it
pour red and sticky sweet onto the carpet,
allow it to puddle and darken.
We can sit in our blue upholstered chairs
by the window, watch sluggish rivulets
cascading down. But an artery, you suggest,
would spark an instant Jackson Pollack—
sprayed toward the walls, Pointillism enjoys
an immediate revival preview. “So, what
is art to you, dear?” you inquire. “An opportunity
to discover it within ourselves,” I reply,
spreading a crimson Matise along the baseboard
Yes, I say, but is art worth the price? And is red really your color. I would say green suits you better.
ReplyDeleteSounds like Damien Hirst to me! I like the contrasting Pollack/pointillism instructions.
ReplyDeletemmmm, and we're not even to day 11 yet...but that's ok, I've already had my first official Napobrainache, heh. I'm finding it tough going this year.
ReplyDeletecookala
I like this. The "slice a vein" is staying with me and I like the reference to Pollack. ~Scarlett
ReplyDelete