A work of art is a problem' Poem by Sridala Swami

It's easy enough to read the thoughts of a newcomer:
the one who will come without appointment
remembering circles and maps of temperance.

Down the avenue of swift and invisible nudes,
a thin, brittle demon the shade of an autumn leaf
is seeking imperfections.

Our prophets always speak too soon-
you know you want to own a picture of a man
carrying a drum made of human scalps.

Give me a little more time here-
A democracy of strangeness is
a reminder that the work of art presents not an expression

of identity but a problem
‘I prefer the films that put their audience to sleep in the theatre.'
Now-
I'd like a word or two from you.