I use to be a painter.
Spent years studying the masters.
Spent years painting things that never existed.
I am a poet, now.
I embed my experience in typeface.
Structured surrealism in sentences.
Ambivalence is a rough file,
rubs skin raw
unless it’s used on callouses.
I created the file to cut through
the imprisoning bars of limited thought
and the boundaries of invisible boxes.
But here I sit.
Self-imposed blood stains
spot a white cotton shirt.
All because attention’s price tag
was a bit too high
and the opportunity costs too great.
I mean, I meant to go to the rally
to free children held at the border,
but…but…I lost track of time.
I mean, I was in a tanka
with crows feet and hollow bird cages
and Death at an easel, painting a landscape.
copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney
