True Art

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7

The cheap laugh hung provocatively
In the red glow of an afterthought
Lazily fanning the arrogant airs of a
Pedantic tragedian lost inside a
Whimper.

But oh how he yearned to give chase
Plant his carnal intellect into the
Random
Joy of appetite
And quiet the tempest that mocked his
Self-important soul.

But no. He bit his lip.
Turned his nose upright
Wafted itinerant verses obliquely
To ponderous heights of critical acclaim.

(Previously published in Free Zone Quarterly, Jan 2001)

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