10-28-2016, 02:42 AM
(written in a poor mood)
The Poor Craftsman
The poor craftsman is a fool, working
canvas into dreary coast,
dusty sky, broken heart, and other
kitschy scenes, thinking
all those same expressions could
claim a place with madhouse charts,
Joycean smarts, royal farts, and yet
in her Icarian pride forgets
that only schizophrenic tastes
get granted trophies for their work,
that every stroke of HCE
was mental-past throo riverrun,
that each regaling wind became
a fame of burning shit -- that is to say,
unworked like hers, not all creative hearts
are worth a critic's thought, a market's glance.
The Poor Craftsman
The poor craftsman is a fool, working
canvas into dreary coast,
dusty sky, broken heart, and other
kitschy scenes, thinking
all those same expressions could
claim a place with madhouse charts,
Joycean smarts, royal farts, and yet
in her Icarian pride forgets
that only schizophrenic tastes
get granted trophies for their work,
that every stroke of HCE
was mental-past throo riverrun,
that each regaling wind became
a fame of burning shit -- that is to say,
unworked like hers, not all creative hearts
are worth a critic's thought, a market's glance.