the only motivation to write
is to always abscond from it...
it's not translatable as necessarily
in league with anathematising
said work...
              it will never be a marriage
concerning the art
and the deliberating idiot who
sacrificed a relationship for
a black & white clip of hurt
          possibility...
                  let's call it a one night stand...
the same sort of relationship
between art and artists,
   as god exclaimed:
                                       wasn't me...
i never write poems,
  i ******* orphans,
                only the best art is
refined by being undermined by the
artist,
           or to be compassionate:
        under the impression of being left,
   "abandoned"...
                                 unfinished.

if all poems were named Oliver,
they wouldn't pass between so many
lips...
    let's face it... poems are like prostitutes,
it takes book-clubs and tongue-****-fests
to discuss a take on Proust.