why we are tramps

it is the artist’s accursed dessert to reside
in constant tribulation or in a constant
state of wondering which flavor
of tribulation is the next or sometimes
two or three tribulations get together
to send in another hurricane designed
to do nothing but bring to the artist
yet a brand new model of disaster.

In all this, all these tribulations,
the artist is consigned to work to the point
of depletion while in the slummiest
of poverty’s alleys in hopes of
releasing a creature rich in rebellion
genes, while at the same time must nurse a hope
hidden or bared that not too many
will be able to truly like it too much

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