Wednesday, June 11, 2014

poem of the day 06.11.14

starry night

the crowds
are gathered around starry night
as if it were the only painting in the world

what sad irony, huh vincent?

none of them seem to be looking at it
just taking pictures of the work and walking away
to find the next masterpiece

maybe there is nothing to look at anymore
but the idea of standing in front of something
that once held beauty and meaning

one guy is leaning into the painting so closely
with his tongue out frat boy style
as if he’s trying to lick those van gogh clouds

jostling for space
with hordes of sticky kids
who are touching the golden frame

as their parents laugh
and snap away more digital memories

nodding blindly at the guard
who keeps yelling about the sanctity of art

and how no one is supposed
to use flash photography
in this museum.


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