The Idiot Artist
She sits forcibly knitting the air.
Although nothing takes shape,
it does so palpably.
She works with ferocious
concentration, never
dropping a stitch
and the nothing she is making
assumes every aspect of creation
except form and substance.
People marvel at its
complexity, its structure,
cunning and connivance.
She merely continues the work,
the focus of the undertaking
engendering its own reward.
Art may be a delusion
plied by idiots,
but the world doesn’t know that
and we idiots don’t care.
Relephant read:
How to Love an Artist.
Author: Mike Essig
Editor: Catherine Monkman
Photo: Denise P.S/Flickr
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