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February 19, 2024


By Linda Imbler


He carries oblique remarks
upon the canvas of his lips.

He paints them as disordered fact.
He paints them as distorted fact.

He slants the truth; as reckless
as concert crowds
after the last note is played.

To meet the artist as a truthful man
has long been my wish.

If art is meant to be beautiful,
let it dwell safely in his mouth.

Article © Linda Imbler. All rights reserved.
Published on 2020-02-03
Image(s) are public domain.
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