When I was sixteen and seventeen I was obsessed with a) Lisa Loeb and b) Van Gough c) Anne Sexton. The following bad poem reflects both of those things.
An Artist’s Rendition of Death 2/5/1998
Van Gough never fell in love
except for the whore
he cut off his ear for
she broke his heart
he broke his brushes
she shot him down
so he shot himself
and he died
a sick man
a lonely soul
Sexton loved the most
always kissing hellos
she danced with her velvet words
and the devil
he drove her too far
so she gassed herself to death in the car
and she died
a sick woman
a lonely soul
I’m in the middle
do I dare paint with words
and listen to dead conversations?
I don’t understand art
I just breathe it
danielle dreger 