The POTW: Verse Til It Hurts

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POTW #808
(Week of 29 July, 2012)
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I took some time away from the Olympics today to dribble out this bit of whimsy:

Canvas

Nedwin always drove as though
His car was hand and road was dough
Kneading slowly, making bread
Life is Art, he said

Nedwin brandished bullet tongue
Blasting tactless old and young
Gatling lungs disgorging lead
Life as Art, he said

Nedwin wore a hat with house
In which he kept an unwashed mouse
And Brussels sprouts, surrealist head
Art, is all that Nedwin said

Neither demon seed nor saint
Nedwin used himself as paint
Without restraint or a la carte
My life is Art, he said

Nedwin changed his name to Art
The better thus to fill the part
I think therefore Descartes is dead
Call me Art, he said

Accused of blank creative treason
Of his message, point or reason
No one seized the slightest shred
That's exactly it, he said

Copyright © 2012 by Dave Grossman

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