abstract art
yesterday at the national gallery
some kids said of a frankenthaler
it reminded them of mario kart
the numeral seven rainbows
by the sea a row of taffy thrown
off a float in a parade a bloody nose
spring came and everything
was possible the possibilities
seemed endless you fag
I whisper when he calls
newman’s stations of the cross
fabulous black boughs shorn
of bark charred tibia telephone
poles in a morning fog you fag
he says when I disappear
into the jasper johns
as if it were some shrubbery
a child could hide in
a changeless symbol taut skin
a silent drum delectable
it’s true
I want
to tell
the children
if you
lick it
art will
kil you
(alphabetical) order is restored
ReplyDeleteAlso, I wanna lick your poem.
DeleteWow is right. I love the form, the two fags slipped in so seamlessly. A couple things I admire in this poem: your whimsical tone, your courage - I think it is courage - to draw from pop-techno-culture like Mario Kart, parades, and telephone poles . . . and then the startlingly taut lineation at the end . . . Sweet, Drew.
ReplyDeleteOMG, I TOTALLY want to lick this poem!
ReplyDeletedo and you take your life in your tongue.
ReplyDelete*last line should be "kill" not "kil." stupid microsoft.
I'm still digesting this poem, but I really do like the fact that each time I go back to it there seems to be something new for me. And that process of discovery is childlike is a way that I think fits well with the way that children figure in this poems structure and spirit. At the moment my favorite part is the disappearance into the Jasper Johns.
ReplyDeleteJoel, just admit you want to lick this poem.
ReplyDeleteless digestion, more licking?
ReplyDelete