his paintings would not be as valuable
now
if he hadn't
sliced off his ear
worn that rag around his head
and then done it to himself
among the cornstalks.
and wouldn't that one's poems be
so famous if he hadn't
faded at 19,
given it all up to
go gun running and gold hunting
in Africa only to
die of syphilis?
what about the one who was
murdered in the road
by Spanish fascists?
did that
give his words more
meaning?
or take the one who was a
national hero
those iceberg symphonies soaring
cutting that particular sky
in half
he had it all working for him
then he got worried about old age
saved his head
went into his house
vanished and was never seen
again.
such strange behavior, didn't somebody
once say?
that the man should be as durable as his
art, that's what they want, they want the
impossible: creation and creator to be as
one. this is the dirty trick
of the ages.

(Beethoven conducted his last symphony while totally deaf. Charles Bukowski)