“I like to support the arts,” he said.

He worked a software job that stole his soul,

and gave to the needy artists

who tried

day after day

to splatter their blood on canvas, like a Jackson Pollock painting

while they prayed

the public would love it.

“I took a break from painting, for twenty years, but now, I’m getting back into it,” the old artist said.

His orca

looked like a dead salmon

jumping out of a swamp.

It hung itself

on the display board

as patrons walked by

asking questions, of the artist

He was more interesting than his art.

As an aspiring poet, I was embarrassed

to look at desperate people

who wanted to be masters

but hadn’t arrived yet

and would never get there.

It’s similar to self-publishing authors

who believe

if they could just get their work out there

it would be good enough

because

art critics

are too critical

and publishers

don’t know a thing.

They’re biased and too liberal

to consider real creativity.

I’m a genius

and nobody knows it but me.

Trust me

you’re not.

There are no undiscovered artists

Stop trying to be

and do

your art.