This Poem was Submitted By: John R. Birkbeck On Date: 2001-06-30 16:28:34 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Self Portrait

"Art is vice. One does not wed it, one rapes it. --Edgar Degas" I mean this time not to talk about myself at all, but here I am doing it again. As an old fart I'm entitled to be a real shit-- and why not? But one more thing about me; I have travelled the world, even to the Americas, and have found that travel, far from broadening me, has narrowed me instead. The same with art, it does not branch out, it concentrates-- and I only want to go back to my dark studio to burrow. Still about me-- I went to Louisiana to paint and had to fight in order to keep my pictures from looking as if they were in the pages of Le Monde Illustre. And now, enough about me; I'll keep quiet at last, and rather than beating off again, I will, instead, paint the fifteenth portrait of  myself.

Copyright © June 2001 John R. Birkbeck

Additional Notes:
This poem has appeared in 0411.78 Magazine and Contemporary Review


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