Saturday, April 30, 2011

Paint These Weary Dreams In Oil Based Paint

I have envied the speckled Pollack minds
and the Guayasamin hands.
I have never tasted Warhol branded soup
nor have I tanned under Van Gogh's yellow sun.

My knees refuse to touch the dirt
in front of canvas churches.

Once I tried to hold David's pose
all moring into the Kinkade twilight,
I shook and cracked
in unattractive ways.

But my ears remain attached
and I haven't succumbed to wine.

Not yet at least.

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