Two Poems by Matthew J. Hall

death and art

had it not been such an unproductive
non creative time, the blank pages
would have been filled with shaky sketches
of disfigured rohypnol victims
open-mouthed corpses
bursting veins
tooth collages of asphyxiated babies
all running around like bloodless gorillas
as the portfolio gasps for breath
as the canvas is split in two
as death imitates art
and art imitates death



eventually


all

the

noise

will

pass