Suture Lines

26 Jan
A student of art observed
the cajones of Picasso, 

the absurdity of Klee. 

Something between the lines, the strokes 

told without words. 

Visual poems could wing to an eagle's nest on Jupiter 

with no birds or planets. 

A search followed 

as without, so within. Sienna browns, washed out golds 

of Conte crayon, and bleeding watercolors. 

A subject proved evasive. The student's paltry skills 

were consistently outstripped by a  snow-capped mountain

or a dusky meadow. 

In the negative spaces of the human form, 

a mocking genius frowned. 

Then one winter day, 

in the basement of a woodland house, 

the student viewed a rat's skull smiling behind a cinder block wall.

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Posted by on January 26, 2022 in Poetry


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