i don’t count the times
when people ask me
whether i could draw something
nice
for a change

people ask me that a lot

can’t you draw something nice
for a change

don’t think it offends me,

it doesn’t but instead

it confuses me
because, you see,

in my best artistic moments
i feel, don’t laugh,
a bit, just a tiny bit of
gonzo in me, you know,
ralp steadman,
think hunter s, thompson,
and you know where i’d be headed
if only i could

if not for the sobering fact
that i am too nice, too nice,
and so are my drawings,
and i suffer for their niceness,
believe me.

or think edward gorey,
there are moments
when i feel a bit edward gorey
in the tip of my pen,
and i cherish that moment

i even visited his house once
yarmouth port, cape cod,
going spirit hunting,
so to speak,

but my art, don’t think
i didn’t know it,
is too nice, too friendly,
too innocent,
even to be rewarded the
term “goreyan”

yes, i admire
maurice sendak,
the wild things, obviously,
dah,
the night kitchen,
we are all in the dumps with
Jack and Guy
and
Brundibar

i wouldn’t pretend
i ever felt Sendak in my pens,
but i should be so lucky,
and he is not nice,
he is really wild
and a synonym
for “loud greatness”

and i am just
nice

so you see
why i am confused
when you ask me
can’t you draw something nice for a change?

because all that i truly hope for
in my art
is that one day
i manage
not to