Morandi.


Mirza had a vision, where-
-upon, a bridge, the span of
life, became the metaphor
for the contraction of death.

Falling from the altitudes of
egotistical achievements,
because art imposed its will  
on the practicality of simplicity.

Mirza’s vie-aduct exposed
the flaws of human frailty,
of mediocracy, and of our
poorly constructed minds.

Those great Concordia’s,
squeezed like Melodeons,
on the inclement rocks, by
relentless tides of repetition.

But should I compose a poem,
thus permitting, rhyming metre's
as a means for harmonious
visibility just to appease? If so

It is you traversing my page
It is you following my guidelines
It is you trusting my punctuation
It is I, who is liable for accuracy!


Ryan O'Leary. ©

For the living victims of an
unforgiving dead.

R.I.P. Genoa.

Ps.

My crossings of this bridge
are what my memory is
currently trying to erase.