POEM XXX: “HIGHER CALLING”

It takes a long time
to cover a Harley Davidson in Swarovski crystals.

And it is more difficult
than you might expect
to turn a dead swan
into a centerpiece.

Every act of bad taste has a kernel
of fine and brilliant madness
that burns like magnesium
and can’t be discouraged with the usual snuffs
that extinguish more sensitive artists.

A man compelled to build the World’s Largest Matchstick Ark
will not be deterred by rain
or termites
or a sudden, explosive fire.

Nor will the knitter
of cat-hair cozies
mind if you find her work
repulsive
and eye-watering.

They are pulled by a higher calling
helpless figures
in a tractor beam
from a pieplate spaceship
against a night of deepest
blue velvet.

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