escher poetry — [ζ] :: 1

passing the muse
crying over the death of sullivan

i followed
to my crude 21st century eyes
the overcrowded images

until holbien mugged me

five fingers and a thumb seven

i don’t like his painting
it mugged me

it’s been a difficult day
now i can cry

i don’t like the skull
it breaks the flow

like shakespeare’s tripped rhythm

like a sound poet’s collages