Poetry of Issue #8 Page 78

I’m at an exhibition of an artist
whose doll’s house eye-view, a pin-art
3D sculpture is a model of how to walk

through a space. It doesn’t do to remain
flat-footed, grass-eating your way
across a paddock of too familiar

landscapes. You need to unleash yourself,
tractor away the familiarities that revolve
like crop rings in your mind. It’s not

just an art school thing. You can’t stop
old ideas trouping their way through
your thoughts, but you shouldn’t be afraid

of a raving dog gone barking mad. It’s
in the art of others you find your growl.
And no matter how hard how hard it is

to adjust your eyes to the merchandise,
there’s always the promise of a troy
for measuring the weight of gold.

Kim Waters