carpe poem #6

does art point to something? or can there be art for art's sake? there can almost be, for an artist who finds something beautiful or exceedingly terrible and does her best to plaster a patina of nice words to say things she doesn't really mean. if art didn't point to truth or beauty, or some ideal, why would someone make art? art isn't practical; art is ideal. And even if it was practical, like a hammer, that would only prove that it was made for something: hammering.

here is another poem. please take and eat like a scone.

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Aware

The sunrise splashes magma on the night

and I gaze to glean some light

as I drive on the thoroughfare,

this is prayer.

Frosted freckling on the glittering ground

crunch as I hear the sound

of cars turning with care, 

this is prayer.

My breath, like incense, white and heavy,

hovers by the Mr. Coffee, 

and the cream and sugar I prepare,

this, too, is prayer.

Now I sit at open table,

listing all I'm able

to do in this day's affair,

this is prayer.

And the approaching rush of self-rebukes,

of all my fakery and flukes,

strip me strengthless bare,

this is prayer.

Then comes distraction of distant fantasy, 

admired by fictive company,

doing that which I would not dare,

this is prayer.

Fidget of my chair and under watch by my boss, 

my legs I cross and recross,

I take a deep breath of air,

this is prayer.

This is prayer, to begin in foothills rough,

this is prayer in daily stuff,

in wherever I am made aware,

this is prayer.