Modern Art
The swirls and whirls
imbued with the words
that no longer come
Can this assuage my heart;
will the chalk dust, paint
flecks, stray stains on wood
Can all this replace the glorious
art of well-placed ink smudges
smattering my fingers and palms?
The whimpers and whistles take
over for the lyrics and the
poems suddenly run dry.