Ode to a puzzle piece shuffled under the rug
They say ignorance is bliss
Brother, you should try it.
I’d rather savor the taste of loathing
Seeped in spicy Hatred, tangy Loathing
Ah, savoring that revolting reminder
Seared in another’s thought
as the inky center
of a pastel landscape;
the oil-paint reproduction
by David Winter
with the crack in time and space.
Instead of fading into obscurity
Rotting in the dust-flavored dark.
Time and fragile memory hastens
No, my one satisfaction
is that I must not be seen
under shaggy wool
promises the fragment
that one day I may be remembered
as a wonderful failure
when the picture is complete.