This poem is taken from Stand 217, 16(1) March - April 2018.
Five Poems
The Last Modernist
I am old, and youth is wasted on the old.
Art is a lie, but reality is hardly true.
The space under the surface is where I hide
in the grip of a pure and shapely mind.
...
I am old, and youth is wasted on the old.
Art is a lie, but reality is hardly true.
The space under the surface is where I hide
in the grip of a pure and shapely mind.
...
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