THE FAMOUS
ARTIST
TALKS
I jack-paneled all the arts into one big
dripping bundle. Just like that, everything
took off. Famous, man, like pearls in an
oyster or soup in a silver spoon. My heart
wept and my eyes were beating -
everything was out of control.
-
Those bleating lambs tethered in isolation,
that was art man, an installation. The purists
clapped like mad, and the ones just learning -
eyeglasses on string, heels and pumps starting
their tilt at the door, they smiled as if they'd
known me before. (It wasn't them but I'd
had their daughters galore).
-
Everyone knew my name - even the guy
with the white truck I'd painted; we called
it 'politicart' and parked it out front.
'Tibet' was all it read.
No comments:
Post a Comment