My senior show for my BA had a lot of charcoal artworks, and I wanted to include poetry.
Black dust forms in abstracts,
realism a smear, here and there,
finding meaning in sharp and musty edges ill defined.
Fire burned 'til the blackened beast's bone could offer release,
where artists' entreaties beg a moment's peace
in the loud, obnoxious loud, fearsome loud world.
Do it right, do it right, do it the way you've been told was right
until your fingers cake with black dust forms in abstracts,
realism a smear here and there, finding meaning.
Or redefine what's right, what's real,
what musty edges mean.
Find the flame and burn the edges black
so you again can make black dust forms in abstracts.
Realism a smear, here and there,
in the blackened beast's bone,