THE ART OF FIGHTING ART:
The marks dance too sweet off the brush today,
beauty is ugly, familiar, safe, circumvents
the groove in the fabulous scratches & stains you leave for me
– I keep going straight to ‘nice’.
They’re stuck in limbo, waiting to make the jump, the muscle twitch,
tendons flinch in sync with the rhythm of streets. I return again,
again, again to find you, in the noise & dirt, waiting in the cracks
between the flash, snap your picture, steal a little soul for later,
wait, are you telling me that’s the problem, too busy taking
photographs when I should be taking it straight into the bone?