Oh dear, dear Dora, fragmented and bright,
A puzzle of planes in the shifting of light.
Green nails are daggers, sharp points on the page,
A geometric dance during the colorful age.
Your purple eye shadow, a block and smear,
Holds two eyes together, yet one’s never near.
One looks to the future, one stares at the past,
In a Cubist arrangement that’s destined to last.
With lipstick applied in a thick, waxy stroke,
Your mouth is a silence that never quite broke.
A triangle’s curve on a violet-stained lip,
As the lines of your spirit begin a courtship.
Oh, Muse of the angles, of squares and of sighs,
With a kaleidoscope burning in deep gold eyes.
You are broken and rebuilt, a masterpiece grand,
With that emerald flash of a segmented hand.
Literature is a compliment
Extending outwards
Into a muted feigning of remorse
A removal of the fat slurred tongue
And buying a drink from a bartender
Just to spend time melting cubism
Cubism - words in cubes
Put words in cubes.
Ideas aligned at once,
inside the box, attuned.
Intensive interplay, makes sense.
fragmented form
subtly arranged
in the analytical
multiple viewspoints
collaged
together as one
Cubist as analysis in space
three dimension became a face
They worked with ptolific zeal
in reality have no popular appeal
i've sharpened
my pencil
to a nib
i've bled all
the ink out
of my pen
kNOt just in
wORds of
chANteD
pOeMs
butt all
sew
scene inn
tHE DOodlES
nEXt two yOUR
POEtry on tHE
pAGE as ewe
pose fOR a
PAIN'tINg
UP in my
lOFT
wOuLD u
moove
yOUR
RYEt brEAST
a bIT SO as NOt
two shOW tEW
mUCH of WHat
bred (L)OAfes
YOU've GOt
Cubism is my favorite art.
I love making silly blockheaded people, pretending
Ignorance as to why I would have drawn certain
Wonderful people in this manner.
I grin diabolically as I cartoon them with cubed heads,
And uppity squared off eyes, looking shifty.
Blocked noses high in the air, looking square-pigged snooty.
My grin gets bigger and bigger as I draw…
I think I started to do this in third grade, as a defense
Mechanism when Ms. Smells – not her real name, but her real attitude
Was too superior to help us in any way, angry if we did not
Understand the concepts she galloped through at a sixth grade level.
It is just something that came to me, I said innocently,
Presenting her with her caricature with a flourish,
Pretending this was a wonderful compliment.
She seemed pleased, not realizing the extent of the insult.
So at the ripe age of eight, I accidentally discovered
I can get in my licks, even against haughty grownups, in the name of art,
By seventh grade I did not always remember to do it with a smile,
So it did not work nearly as well.
But this in no way wiped out my love of cubism.
She once had a face where a face should have been,
Blue eyes with a beautiful grin,
And blonde tousled hair neath a broad working hat,
And her beautifully unblemished skin,
Till blue streaked down over both of her cheeks,
Till water stained both of her eyes,
Till all of her world turned onto itself,
And caught her off guard by surprise,
And her nose juxtaposed with a mix of a kiss,
Her chin became something in blue,
And both ears appeared on the side of her face,
In the shape of a weird looking shoe,
He made her someone she never looked like,
All her curves now technically straight,
He made her emotions become who she is,
With his cubism paint brush and paint.
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