Artes, Scientia, Veritas

I breathed in
maize and blue
for so long
that my lumpen lungs
became stained
with intellectual war paint,

but I shed
my Wolverine skin
when I stepped into
the Golden Grizzlies’ den.
Still, I bear
the pursuits
sealed upon my heart.

(In case what is below appears as simply a link, it is meant to be a Yeah Write Editor’s Choice badge. I seem to struggle to get such badges to work for some odd reason.)

<a href=””><img src=””></a>

Le Penseur, or Standing at The Gates of Hell

I wonder
what Rodin was thinking
when he made you, if he believed
clothing inhibited your contemplation.

I ponder
a life of exposure, imagining
the cold of your perch above this unthinking
world, then offer my adornments without realizing
they’ll never fit.