| Leave me cherubs! - To your pedestals! The sweat-faced gawkers come for you. Under great brobdignag bulks of marble hunched - an th silly clatter of happy-faced travelers scrunched to gentle expressions of awe at brush stroke leaves, as the trees melt onto brick sidewalks. An I'm lost - tryin not to forget t stay still. Hide from the men with cameras an the men with suits an all the bright scholars, standing with noses turned up. who were quite right to say goodbye to yabyum screams. But Sargent knew. an Monet knew an they all knew - inside the shapes of Picasso and the dark corners of Dutch blackness (whose frames all tho have been prostituted to institutions) - the truth of trees an sad bees an the hum o wheels down a railroad track, which goes away t sky an brings it home. back to where we all stood barefoot before. |
| Leave Me Cherubs |