Cities and suburbs, real and imaginary.

Sunday, September 11, 2016

Sonnet #71

To watch a painter is to watch paint dry
The act of making is dull, methodical
It takes a long time before the canvas tries
to come together. Observe the periodical
How the machines run sheets and bind
How videos of photo shoots are boring
Four hours of subtle shifts in frames of mind
Three days at a computer screen poring
Over prints and shades. The writer strapped
to a machine, typing, retyping, retyping
There's nothing quite so dull. In fact,
The make of art might as well be plumbing
Observe confused the wriggling arms beneath
The cabinets, our impatience with your polite seethe

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