Tuesday, May 11, 2010



Question to an artist who killed himself

For a moment and a half,
you cling.
Fingertips digging the precipice
of my skull
and as I close my eyes I see a kid
drooling in the ecstatic oblivion of madness.

What is it that you seek,
you ask me.
Through trillions of chafed sun-sets
robbing cake-shops
for crumbs with burnt edges
slanting, sleeting rain boiling
on raw burnt tin sheets
and the smell of singed flesh?

Masked trapeze.
Springing up from the safety net
the Big Top
ringmasters with cigarette-holders
a mile long
and pointed, pronged tails.

Why is it that you paint your face,
you ask me.

With white and vermillion
and a grin with curling corners
and the skull of a mouse for a nose?

Why is it that you
paint?

4 comments:

Tinker Belle said...

I don't know why, but it reminds of the Grim Reaper; like he is the one asking all these questions, and in the process, scaring me, perhaps to death!

Applause Factory said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Pramshanks said...

@ Tinker: Yes lolo... but isn't the Reaper one's own twin brother?

Tinker Belle said...

@PS
Never thought of it that way. Thanks for giving me a new perspective, PS! :)