Here’s two versions of a poem I wrote earlier this year, the second is still in pieces.
It’s called Art Thief.
(For some reason my WordPress changes the formatting after I have published posts, sometimes; apologies – impresario’s note (ha-ha.))
* * *
in this area, there’s a man who houses
the prized Mona Lis’
did i get that she was pining for me –
the Art thief?
O, he’s fond of saying,
she entitles he to infinite rank;
. . . mm, tell me this, Kind Sir:
do you cherish her, & worship her,
all night & all day?
— do you serve her as a General,
executing the wishes of Your Queen?
— would you cut yourself,
if you thought that that would
bring you in more closely?
when blackness sets,
or bitternesses seize,
do you turn to her being mean?
Sir –– tonight will you feelst passion for her,
or will you feel like having another beer?
—- Someday, you might find,
while you’re hoarding your liqueurs, EP’s, or salted cures . . .
that i am stealing A New Heart,
in a camisado,
rappelling down from the window sill.
Xxx An Art Connoisseur & The Mona Lis’
* * *
Here’s the ragamuffin, undone 2nd version, with lots of clutter & outtakes.