Notes from a Forgotten Artist (98 words)
I looked at the same world, attentive
Everything was an invitation
People were beautiful pains in the ass
They were looking elsewhere
I touched the same materials with my hands
I didn't know what would happen to the work
I dreamed it churning back into soil
I was attentive
I imagined what it was like in your time.
If what I made disappeared, could I still speak to you somehow?
Could you hear me through our selfsame attentiveness,
our indistinguishable looking?
I dared to hope
oh, dear beautiful world:
let all for nothing still be something