grapes of melancholy.

the artists stand
diverse
and widely spread
but feet attached to the ground
fire engulfed
from the center of their heavy bosoms
to the core of the earth
spreading flames
spreading ashes.
the artist emerging
from the adversity
of the earth's womb
sad and sappy
sad in ways vast
overruling
colinizing
sad in sadness
that manifestes
to coyly lerking
beauty
the artist
is the smallest
of all beings
the doctors
and the lawyers
and the bankers
the soldiures
the janitors
stand in propriety
strutting streets
inhabeting sleep
and they are all larger.
then comes days
and all these men
are overcome
with miniature
humanity
that is depression
and morbid
isolation
and they are at lost
for words
than comes the microspic
spec like figure
of the lonesome artist
and he stands
and he utters to them
sings his verses
that crawl out of his little
rotten mouth
surfe the particles
of nicotine filled air
and rests upon the cluttering
confused
 hearts
of the mundane and the restless
here is an artists
who burns
for the weeps of humanity.