contemporary art

Nerves made of rope or some kind of metal that frays. When you look at it.
I am sitting in a tree with ten monkeys. When you look at me.
The sounds coming out of me tuned to a dog whistle.

Even the wind outside the double panes ruffles me.
I want to hit something or kiss you.
This will not hurt, but it could be a slow-burning barn. Filled with owls.

We were a far away building once, in a painting by Mark Rothko.
Do you get it?
Of course you do.