The Minimalist Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

The Minimalist

Rating: 2.5


Crimson Is The Color.

'Where?
I don't see it.'

The fingerprint.
The artist has signed this painting,
Or lack of it shown...
With just his thumbprint.

'How did you know,
Crimson Is The Color...
Was the title of this 'piece'?
I see absolutely nothing.'

Look at the thumbprint.
What color is it?
They call him 'The Minimalist'.

'But...
Where is the other part of the frame?
Only half of it appears on the portrait.
Or whatever this 'blank' canvas is called.'

That's why he is called, The Minimalist.
You have to find the meaning within yourself.

'At 'that' price?
I can buy a brand new car.'

That's nothing.
I invested in one of his prized portraits.
Entitled, 'Blocked Nose'.
You should see it.
I have it hanging over my mantle.
Right above the fireplace.

'And you can't get one poetry reading?
And this guy is making a fortune?
You need a manager.'

Yeah.
You might be right.
But what I do isn't considered 'art'.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success