the next step Caravaggio cut up
Velasquez in the piano stool intersects
the futurist's shape shock
his severed head exists beyond brushstrokes
standing back it takes a different form
lust in the window reduced amongst the mackerel
rolling down her stockings rusting sirloin
her legs stretching out against the glass
revealing one of many moving orbs suspended
there is another planet this is its sunlight
showing layers of dust over empty houses
growing cold education is financed
by a weather beaten pocket silk lined and frayed
feeling the pages fold it is the pen we watch