Don't Ask


When you ask an artist about his work

you ask that artist to become his clerk.


Now he’s in marketing, sales and PR.

His piece now a product, like coffee or cars.


A song or a painting, a film or a novel,

he kneels before it. A master who grovels.


All of the feelings he wished to convey

were expressed in the piece that is now on display.


But first you want quotes? An in-depth exclusive?

God forbid that the meaning remain elusive.


Some just can’t fathom that this is intrusive.

No wonder the greats all stay so reclusive.


And woe unto you if your piece gains momentum.

The uproar for more seeps in like a slow venom.


Why create this? Did you court all this clamor?

I did it for kicks. Half the time I was hammered.


Some boats needed rockin’. Too many were steady.

Don’t ask me what I think. I thought it already.


What you bring to the piece is what gives it life.

It’s dormant or sprightly. Empty or rife.


Discuss what you think! What’s your opinion?

I’d hate to declare you a mindless minion.


Did my piece move you? Or did you abhor it?

Tell me your story. That’s what’s important.