Knack

Private self-medication
Through disturbed nature;
Shoot me, Marcel Duchamp

There are no innovative drive-thrus
Nothing left to question
When knack is no longer less than concrete

Thus,
Collected eyesores, idle and
Sick of the sties
Longing for aesthetic eccentricity
Interpretation beyond earthly adjectives

Are there no webs
For this avant-garde tarantula?
From the depths
Of every self-interested stanza

When the painter

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poem by Miranda Arocho
Added by Poetry Lover
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