Art Exstallation Manifesto

If art is cash,

credit, investment, and status,

I am dross.

Value is a flexible cup

that runneth over.

Beauty is a warm soldier

with nonetheless weapons

of brilliant harm.

If art is making and

giving, I am full,

and the glad opposite

of finite.

Color is a form of
consciousness, of spirit
holding faith in fountains.

Shadow is the substance
of waiting for euphoria.

If art is holding and collecting,
I am a loose thread meandering,
a loose cannon rolling
significant light shows
against the pregnant dark.

Line is a singular map
condensed and waiting
for a vision to release its direction, thrust,
and purpose.

Contrast is a multiplier
of sensation, a confluence
of rivers, and an omelet
both savory and sweet.

If art is a tiny gift
that magnifies a glance
into an embrace, and
a stitch into time itself,
I am wealth personified.

Abstractions are deep
reflections in the
skewed mirror of
the sky’s eyeballs.

  

If art is bold
along the seams of loss,
making a forever
juxtaposition of empathy
and grief, I am
the process of mourning that
beholds joy
and treasures delight.

Texture is the way fingers see
grains of sand
and the print of stars
on the bedclothes. Texture
is the nutritional supplement
on top of the nurturing meal.

If art is the measure of

 kindness is courage,
I am love.

The elements of art are
here, there, and
everywhere: the glare on
the pill bottle by nightlight,
the crumple of black leather gloves,
the myriad shapes of calligraphy,
the feather of down and the
feather of dawn.

Forbidden is but one of the ways
art is hidden and lost in this world.

If art is marketing, product placement,
and public relations, I am
an intriguing whisper
in an empty room.