We anthropomorphize
The abstract — lips and eyes,
Masks and numberless crowds,
From fleeting thunderclouds.
When did we come to find
The null of abstraction,
The absence of the signed,
So full of attraction?
The painter knew the pain
Of love and betrayal.
This painting is insane,
His obsessions’ dark veil.
The distant golden town
Is a meaningless noun.
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