Gaudy abstracts do nothing for me.
It's that backpack girl, head
between her knees. She must be trying to duck
a seizure, stem an earthquake
in the rock of her beneath her feet.
Vortex. She hunkers down,
a copula of engorged muscle
no one else notices.
I like this poem very much Richard. Bravo! I like poems about art and museums for some reason, I guess because the poem is an artform that is commenting or referencing another artform. Also, anything that takes place in a gallery or museum has a heightened artistic quality to it. BTW I think the last line is weak because the statement is kind of obvious. Otherwise, I enjoy it very much.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The use of language is the knot of the subject, the girl. The poem is the thing it attempts to portray in itself. This is rare. Stunning.