TRUE ART Dedicated to Lucky 81

TRUE ART:

Instant satori,

laced skies, 

in the Apollonic diaspora,

saffron panopticon, 

quasi-deeming rhetoric,

absconded in surfeit bewilderment,

amelioration of instantaneous pulse,

sifting in the heart of a star's darkness,

the darkpulse of blind notation,

conforming to ineffable unspoken fate,

remaining in the vector,

somewhere in time's infinite division,

nuance mutates into ascription's derivations...

filled with violet velvet vehemence, 

found in fount of fermented fountain logic, 

overflowing with novelty and bliss,

underfoot trod on empty empires,

groaning for burial and memory,

upon which insularity suspends disbelief,

in that moment 

between the apportionment of deferred inclination,

finitude rejoices in demonstrated acquiescence,

deep in the concrescence of conflated cares, 

drawn deep in the ambient war,

that separates mere Nature 

from all true art.