Apollinaire!
Did you not care,
Your writings were not art?
Duplicitous,
Your text is rich,
But tends to fall apart.
Birds, watches,
Long-lined swatches
Etched into the sky.
Cats, towers,
Lilting flowers,
Letters shifting by.
Boots & skulls,
Surreal dolls,
Violins & hearts.
Breezy trees
Made from Ts
Plus alpha-bits & parts
Snails & hands,
Scripted bands,
Glasses tipping wine.
Shooting stars,
Ghost guitars,
Watches out of time.
Apollinaire!
We do not care,
Your scribblings are not art!
Perfect-pitched,
Your words are rich,
Like cryptic, well-baked tarts.
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