Eli stood on the beach;
EC playing in the surf,
splashing in the waves;
her board abandoned
in the surf.   Adopting
a tame shark,        EC
emerged ****
from the water,   wiry
body burnt toasty purple,
the phrase "Post
Classical" quickly
crossing the painter's
mind.

There was no more "Classical".
There was the"Academic" &
the Absurd; the two sides had
squared off & declared war...

Modernism was obsolete &
all expression was banned...
Still, Eli had to make a living;
Still, he was a cipher centered
on his own inner emptiness...