The Artist

An artist will spew at you, Verbs or beats, Or oils or flexes. An artist will want to hypnotize With these verbs, beats, oils and flexes. The reader is a fish, searching for a flake, The audience is empty, waiting for Notes, and rhythm. The critic is an empty canvas swirling Color to find the intimate connection that Makes an omnipresent black stamp. And the dance, the patron of the dance, Together rise and fall, artist forever baiting Fellow, the master of their bait.