Portrait of the Artist (January 1995)

I saw him last week—these massive tattoos 

From above his shoulders down to his wrists, 

And long red dreads.  He was haranguing a 

Christian canvasser—something about how

His family had a falling out with 

Their church, been baptized but never wanted

For god again. . .  His body suggested 

Degradation—a complete denial 

Of perfection, his paintings defacements 

Of form and order—colors and figures 

Smeared into distortion.  But he said no 

To whiskey I offered—he doesn’t drink—

And that he gets most of his ideas 

From the children he teaches, mostly to 

Depict his family and their dog, Fin.