Modern Art

March 12, 2015 at 2:06 AM (Poetry)


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.

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