high art

i have devoted myself to art

the pursuit of beauty truth

the words do not matter

just that art exists

the scholar blusters loudly about image and perception depth and color

words like contrast mood genre composition

dance without rhythm around galleries and drawing rooms

i do not bother with matters such as these

the art that concerns me

lies within the heart of a young woman cheering into the wind

slides down the lines of a clean back

rubs from lips tense in their chaste denial

falls from fingertips that need muscle into ecstasy

no painter scholar sculptor actor critic writer dancer

will deny the truth beauty that exists only in high art

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