Hanging Sonnet

Hanging pictures is an art in itself and I'm not very good at it
Like I'm not very good at art, but I try and I buy
Paint and find it's the wrong kind and I'm
Burning my hands with white spirits
That haunt me when I'm licking after chicken
And thinking how come Jackson Pollock
Had the guts to do it? and how come I blew it
Dripping oils everywhere and making a mess? and
Oh the stress of having to undress. Maybe
I should just frame this shirt and hang it up,
Is that art? Will that stir your heart like
The wheel of a bike or make it leap
Like half a sheep? No good:
Hanging pictures is an art in itself and I'm not very good at it.

Liam Wilkinson

If you've any comments on this poem, Liam Wilkinson would be pleased to hear from you.