what now ?

what now ?

not what if
not what then
but only just

what now ?

if someone were to
view a work of art
that did provoke....

what now ?

what is there
to say to that ?
the mystery
would sure abide
behind the viewer's eye

the artist might be lying
in a drunken stupor
under some sleazy
bar-room table
at that moment
in space and time

or long deceased....

or worse yet
trapped within
a living death
dependent on
the fickle favour
of some other

if you cut me
i will bleed
i am not the
words i utter
i shall not
always be here

so pass the
bread and butter
this could
very well be
the time of
our last supper

i am not some
cardboard character
performing in your
convenient cartoon-land

i am that one
who's the least of us
i am that long
forgotten friend
i have died along
the concrete highway
again and again and again

what now ?

there's no secret hidden
behind these words
it's all up front to see

if i'm not living
here and now
when shall i ever be ?

if this is true for me
it's likely so for thee

there is no answer
to this riddle
only just to be

the answer is
to be the question
tis all that's left for me

what now ?