an artist stands in a museum

time is silverfish polished

the artist says: here is the self

look look, please, they look and say oh! how awful

see the guts

layered tissue and blood pressed into the mold of a canvas

aorta rings pool with centenarian marrow

form an organelle mosaic of adenosine filled flesh

may i keep it

shrouded in the careful cradle of my soul sheer

says the philosopher the nomad the peasant the saint

the daughter       the scientist     the soldier the student   the new artist

aches, mercury-sick muscles

fill an unalloyed heart—coveted by the same primordial mother

the innate artist sits upon

full eyes blink behind the canvas i can see him!

pathos-dipped needle piercing pleats of Saturn silk

silver organ passed to me, kneel with its weight