A to Z Challenge: I

Two poems today.  First, a silly little piece about writing. Then a nonsensical A to Z poem with each letter of the alphabet the first letter of an artist's surname.

If you're looking for Music Monday, it is the previous post. 


(untitled) 
In the village square

they’re selling metaphors.

The stalls are full of farmers

peddling their fresh-cut similes.

The merchants barter with passers-

by. Two insinuations for the price

of one. That allusion can be yours

for half-price – it’s tainted

by cliché. The skilled craftsmen

offer their shiny themes,

their finely woven plots

to only those who are wealthy

with words. Their clientele

are the select few, rich

in grammar and syntax.

In the distance,

in the fields,

the peasants observe the bustling

market with the jealousy

of the illiterate.

(untitled) 
I filled Archipenko’s void.

I trampled Bosch’s garden.

I called C.M.’s bluff.

Degas attended the ballet. Escher

Climbed the stairs. Lucian stepped

From his grandfather’s shadow.

I escaped to Tahiti with Gauguin.

I was Hopper’s solo diner.

I sided with Itten at the Bauhaus.

I buried Jorn in Stalingrad.

Kirchner, on the bridge, watched

Lichtenstein drown. Michelangelo

Did his best work on his back.

I plowed Newman’s color field.

I burned O’Keefe’s flower.

I mourned with Picasso in Guernica.

I died with Quay in the Barbus.

Rivera turned left at the crossroads.

Seurat soaked in the tub. Long story

Short, T-L got drunk at the Moulin Rouge.

Utrillo haunts me in a forgery.

I went mad with Van Gogh at Arles.

I wasted Warhol’s fifteen minutes.

I came, I saw, I heard Xenakis at Expo ’67.

Yalter ironed my wrinkles.

Zadkine rebuilt the destroyed city.