the new artist is bold.
he is aware.
he finds patches of grassland
by the concrete
where trees live
and rests there
as suv's and motorcycles follow each other
on the paved avenue
with android drivers pursuing fluff
they, shocked senseless from Sony sound waves,
and stinky money that is used
to obtain barren morsels of Dorito pleasure.

the new artist tells the truth
and creates
and waits
and knows
that he is on to what is real
and hangs out with God
on the corner of College and Roosevelt
grateful
that beauty still reflects
despite
the noise
of
utter
complete
distraction.