Why in my heart do I love junk like I do?
Sometimes I just don’t know why when
I see an empty can or a rusted nail, I
can’t let it perish and instead of sending
it to its grave, I imagine it hanging on
someone’s wall where the public can
admire my genius for rescuing it from the
junk-heap and turning it into a piece of art.
Nuts and bolts welded into a woman’s torso
becomes beauty never before seen, When
like a miracle, the artist shapes her rump, he
fantasizes about its size and creates one so
large and round that he falls in love.
Like a child, I’ll lay it on the line. I collect common
things, even chicken wings that are thrown onto
the street, or into garbage cans. Others see only
trashy junk to be sent to a landfill, or maybe melted
down to be used again.
Like a miracle I’ll recycle a lot of junk and make it into
something that it’s not. I may create sculptures that move
and make people say OOOHHH and AHHHH and that my
friend, is interesting art.
art > poems > poetry