The Conundrum of the Mold

The Conundrum of the Mold

From the ash and mud
god made a son
and admired at such invested heart-
"Till the Devil whispered behind the leaves,
'It's pretty, but is it Art?'"

God looked to him
and was shocked
although he new well of horned game-
He though awhile and probed his way,
"It is, but what's your aim?"

The Devil smirked
and raised his brow
he knew he ought to dig again-
but he thought a moment and all he said was,
"I leave that to you my friend."

God was confused
what could it mean
he pondered at his creation-
he saw what looks
and hear what sounds
and felt what emotions
human hid.

And he came back to the Devil
creation in hand
head held low and with shame-
He knew the answer to the riddle,
"It's a forgery in my name."

And the Devil laughed
oh a mighty laugh
at how God must have felt-
He looked at him and confessed it all
"Such a fool to make yourself!"

And God looked up
and a same smirk formed
as he came by the devils ear just to part-
and from the leaves God questioned him of error:
"It's pretty, but is it art?"

-Matthew Koutzun


The excerpt "Till the Devil whispered behind the leaves, 'It's pretty, but is it Art?'" is taken from Orson Welles' "F for Fake" as read from Rudyard Kipling's "The Conundrum of the Workshops". I had just watched "F for Fake" today and it etched a very neat question in my brain about forgery and art and whether authorship is necessary in its dealings. I can't answer those questions here but I certainly can, but I leave you to watch the film and then question yourself from there before you respond- if you do. But even so, I hope you like the poem. Goodnight. I try not to lie to you.

In this no ones home.

In this no ones home.

Lets just leave
while the going's good-
while the chairs are empty,
and no one's home.

Let's just leave
the parlor and the room-
the lights are off,
and no one's home.

Lets just leave
while there's still time-
the furniture's covered,
and no one's home.

Lets just leave
it all at that-
I'm not returning,
and no one's home.

Let's just leave
since it's over-
it only was an empty time,
and no one's home.

Let's just leave
no hurt feelings-
the boxes never unpacked
in this no ones home.

-Matthew Koutzun

The List

The List

The list is quite demanding:
organizing change.
It's optical
and ever waiting
there on the page before me.
I've written them
and they are daunting.
They'll never be erased
if I don't stick to them soon.
So I start a spreadsheet
and list the demands.
Oh, I'll be changing.
Soon.

-Matthew Koutzun