Because She Would be Great — K.Hunt

Enchantress dismantling words
Dabbles also in the twist of colour
The conjuring of form
Detritus
Bits of leaves
Sticks
Leaves old paper as the dust behind her departure

Those who unite theory and purpose will attest
That words alone merely moss the rock
Little scratch at the image within which depth
Lies not a master of meaning alone, but a portfolio embodied
Of mastery able to paint itself

To be articulate is to talk as it pales beside the shrill
Dibs and dabs of representation

She would then be asked to produce her ray zum ay
Which she will reasonably do

Upon examination of this
She will be awarded that title that says
You can glue your binder’s leavings to my walls
Dried, worn out leaves from the lawn onto my paintings
All in full view of the fire
To show what is beautiful

In moment, she, too, will be beautiful

Because dribs and drabs are only complimented
She is pinching, tearing, cuts, retrieves
Tired clippings and colourful nothing

Life blows cold in the weary world of the arts
She clothes us, loosens the binding thong
Lets the wind dally and rush as it will
Leaves the many languages to impugn truth
Pats a pair of loose-leaf repair rings on the back of your trousers
Repairs all the wounded paper clips some day
See for yourself
Hooks them onto your pockets for safekeeping
Where they can do no harm