NOW

I think of painting now, Feeling the perfect, hypnotic gestures Of hand to brush, poetic and erotic.

But, witness the weighty deliberations- Postmodernism’s fancy for Captured images. Like a butterfly anesthetized And pinned to cotton, Dead but beautiful; Postmodernism, so dead But beautiful.

We are fooled, fueled By this seduction, Thus blinded, O Osiris.

We are fooled, fueled By this seduction, Thus blinded, O Osiris.

Cynthia M. Kukla