MANNERISM
I am an artist of dead chalk and yellow blood,
leaving my strange markings on neighborhood
walls - you may have seen. May have not. I
am not sure, quite, if there's really a difference
at all. Here, let me catalogue : Moon, stars, sun
planets, mists of cloud and smoky matter, distant
dots on an unbroken sky. I see things like they are,
or may have been. Recreate the planeload of that
mirror, please - like an unpaid astronaut waiting
for air; that's me. (I remember very cold air, of a
Winter's night, in Elmira. It had been frigid for twenty
days, everything frozen rock solid: like ice, a sculpted
masterpiece of this world had turned to stone).
No comments:
Post a Comment