The gallery was free, yet full
Of endless dull
Depictions with no wonder thundering
In my heart or head. I stood instead
And gazed within: why must my ordinary life
Forever imitate art?
*
There! Amongst the moulded marble
Art, by name
And nature, nurtured in an alien
Scrapered world for his and my mimetic sakes
Bought tea and toast, taught me to see that most of life
Is counterfeiting art
*
He blended Greco-Roman
And El Greco’s warm
Anthropologic imperfection, added
Rembrandt’s iconography to great Magrittes
And Leonardos, Dalis, daily showed me love for
Life transcending art
*
So dear to me, so clear…
And yet he’s gone
And so I’m pondering on questions
Aristotelian – Oscar Wilde opined
His part – Oh, will my life’s sad sorrowful existence
Ever imitate Art?
*
