Pure form

I found my cure for indigestion
(And other Capitalist ailments)
Could always be found in
The words of Stanisław Witkiewicz

He unleashed in me a slumbering beast
(Not the first of its kind to dwell in me)
And a quest for Pure Form
The mystery of life; a composite art
Awakened from some strange dream

Free from didactic demands
My soul nuzzled into rest
Curled as a page of parchment
A deformation of human psychology
And action

This entry was posted in Poetry.

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