the undiscovered artist

striving endlessly to

preserve her/himself in

amber,

having spent no time to pop out

the biological pez that 99% of others do,

rather instead,

working to put more

cultural seed out into the

world,

s/he would be at a loss,

the greatest that s/he had ever known,

if in fact,

s/he was found to be interesting

in the eyes of the easily pleased, neon,

five second exposure,

that makes & breaks those who

might’ve spent a lifetime

creating a vast amount of precious

things,

which generations later

might be able to use

in order to stand on the proverbial giant’s

shoulders &

keep the wave splashing up against the

shore of

continuous

creativity---

the irony is that to be found is to be

decided upon, evaluated &

shelved, whilst one is still alive &

breathing,

killing one’s greatest love so quick

with the label of

“style”---

as if reinvention & the fun that accompanies

an artist doing so,

would be cauterized by the consuming

public.