how i became the art predator
i fell in love with a beautiful sculptor
tall lean he worked in metal, stone
shaped trees too
he had blue stitches in his nose
a chain saw had fallen from the sky
almost sliced it off
i moved in to his studio
slept in his metal sculpture under a tarp
cooked in a trailer
watched movies in a shed
listened to mice
showered outside
peed there too
i wanted my own space
i’ll build you a tree house he said
a place where you can write
high above the world
art city was big enough for me too
my dad helped me design & build a loft
i got my stuff out of storage
moved it all in–books clothes futons
the sculptor and i
didn’t last long
he was furious
i wouldn’t leave
you’re not a real artist he said
you don’t belong here he said
you’re not an artist he said
you prey on artists
you use them
you’re just an art predator
that’s what you are
the art predator
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art predator 
I never knew that was how it started.
You rock! Welcome to the Blog World. Careful, it’s addicting.
love this!!! Welcome aboard the poetry train – it’s a no rules kinda thing. you’re gonna love it! heh! oh yeah – we’re all nuts on the train.
thanks, danika & rhian, for the welcomes!
ha! It’s possible I’m an art predator too… I find myself quite literally wanting to hang on and never let go when I read something that blows my mind into another place. I look forward to reading more. :)