When we speak of
Ars Moriendi
You and I are finally getting somewhere,
beautiful.
When the Poet dies-finally-
The poem is freed.
The libertine line advances
meaning, perspective.
Morals are not the main characters,
plot is where we were going,
a scene made, is setting,
is a container, set and broken down,
a frame to hold all the pieces
to gather in one assemblage
and enable anyone to walk around.
Implicating exclusion by category, genre,
red and not read,
unbounded through decohesion,
letting leaves fly-
Well
we must determine-
To finish or decompose.
After all This
Art is all that remains after speech,
after thought, in memoriam,
the pictures point and the words paint
only where there is
Life.
We recognize these reflections
and find them beautiful.
Painting by William Orpen, Reflection in mirror c. 1917 in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
