“Andy where’s my 15 minutes?”–David Bowie [Tin Machine’s song “I Can’t Read”]
From The New House of Fame by Paul “Whitberg” Burgess
To paraphrase the artist Andy Warhol,
All people visit for a quarter hour.
I know not much about the rise and fall
Of blossoms wilting once they briefly flower,
Or tourists standing in the House’s hall,
But only that to lose what’s sweet is sour.
Those placing faith in Fame’s atomic flash
Must run the risk of being turned to ash.
For more selections from The New Houseof Fame, please see the following post:
“My Wife’s Garden”
The stems through which the water slowly runs
Contain, of course, the rain and daily suns,
But something else inside the flowers lives
That neither sun nor falling water gives.
Those petals, leaves, and roots within them hold
The loving labor, sweat, and hours untold
She joyfully provides them ev’ryday
With smiles that nurture like a solar ray.
While watering the plants today, I heard
The ring of metal tags then saw a cat
And wondered whether he’d pursued a bird
Too far and gotten lost. He was as fat
And clean, from furry head to furry paw,
As any loving person’s treasured pet.
A little like one running from the law—
Eluding officers’ circling, dragging net—
He’d often hide in bushes and in trees.
His eyes appeared to say, “It’s not a game.
I’m scared and want again my life of ease.”
He fled before the tags revealed his name.
I hope his face won’t soon appear on pines
In “Help-Me-Find-My-Precious-Kitty” signs.