Chosen
john clare
Quietly
In the gallery
In whispers
In corners
Beside acrylics
Gaudy
They speak of one
Of one chosen
To lead them
Lead them from
The gaudy
The primitive
Past the jury
Of peers
Who fear the
Beauty
Creeping in
Past the craft
Passing furtive
For Art
Pricing it
Excessive
Beyond the realm
Of the jaded
Tired of the
Creative angles
Of multiple perspective
Points
Taking their eyes clear off the edge to
Where who know what
Resides
By six by six squares
Whispers of one
Coming
Chosen by the jury
Who oversees the beauty.
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