Nothing Depends
I am entertaining
and unnecessary,
but I enjoy
both of those
under-defining
adjectives.
My mistakes
I cover up,
in the wrong colors
of acrylic.
They still show through
when they dry.
Thank God.
The chin isn’t right
on my self-portrait.
It mocks me
with uncertainty.
I never did fit into
the proportions
of myself.
My paintings
are more puzzling
than the abstract version
of an abstract.
I wasn't classically trained.
Especially the desperate,
stretching trees
I tried to paint
behind me.
They look like skinny soldiers
bowed down by true intentions
and heavy snow.
Standing between me
and the vertical
attempts at Aspens,
is a red wheelbarrow
and chickens.
I hate those chickens.
They even squawk
on canvas.
Thank you,
William Carlos Williams.
When will the raindrops dry?
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